Oediopus
by Aurontalia
Summary: The continuation of Tantalus, Oediopus it explores Dean and Sam's relationship s , as well as Sam's mysterious past.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: A New Beginning**

A/N

This is the first chapter of 'Oedipus,' the continuation of Tantalus. As you may know, Dean is a vampire, and Sam an awful Hunter, with a dubious family history. This story explores Sam's powers/deals with them. As a note, Sam's hair is no longer his Season 1 hair; it's getting a BIT longer, but is not quite his longer tucked back/rockstar hair. Feel strongly encouraged to critique; I have become a review whore.

"How's the bite?" Dean asked. It had been over a week since Lucretia had bitten Sam and the mark had faded from a purply bruise to red to an odd yellow, nothing like John's blackened bruise.

"Mostly good." Sam replied, putting his plate in giant trash-bag that had built up over the past few days of take-out food. "Still kind of hurts but-" he yelped as Dean jerked his arm, pulling him closer and moving the hem of his shirt up.

"Still funny colored." Dean finished with a sigh. He still hadn't mentioned John to Sam. He had no idea where John had fed too. The traces John had left in the basement had been more than enough to trace him by, but nothing had shown up. Sam hadn't ceased badgering him about it. Dean had found that the best way to shut him up was to distract him.

Dean's lips traced along the almost-healed cut on Sam's jaw, making Sam gasp. "Dean,"

"Shh Sammy, I won't bite you," Dean replied, lapping his tongue along the cut.

Sam stiffened and jerked his head away from Dean. "I know, just, don't."

Dean let his arms loosen, slipping down to Sam's waist. "Still don't want me going anywhere near your cuts," he sighed.

"I just don't want you biting me Dean." Sam replied, an edge in his voice. "It hurt when she did it and it's still screwed up and what if you-." Sam cut himself off, looking away.

"What if I accidentally kill you." Dean finished for him, letting his arms slide back down to his side. He sighed. Despite the initial few days of sex and cuddling, Sam had begun to withdraw. Dean hadn't been laid in what, three days? And it was starting to grate on his nerves.

Dean stepped away, making ready to leave when Sam grabbed his hand. "I, just," he started. "We, we could do other things?" he said in a half-questioning voice.

"Other things," Dean agreed, moving his hands back up to Sam's sides. He moved one hand across Sam's nipple and tweaked it through his shirt.

Sam grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it away. Dean wrestled playfully with him for a few moments before letting him keep his hand. Sam kept it down at his side.

"Not that Dean," Sam said. "There's still my father out the-"

Dean restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "Not that again."

"Not that again?" Sam challenged. "He's my FATHER Dean, and he may be an ass but I've still got to go after him!"

Dean stepped back, reclaiming his hand and leaned back against the counter. "And how do you propose we do that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "There's no trace and he'll be a bitch to track down the conventional way-"

"Then we do that!" Sam exclaimed. "And you don't get to use the excuse of ' But Sammy, you're still injured'-" he mocked in a falsetto voice.

"I do NOT sound like that!" Dean growled. "And you ARE still inj-"

"And well enough to hunt!" Sam said, throwing his arms out. "The more time we waste here the longer it'll take to track him down and-"

Dean let his shoulders slump. "Fine." he said. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

Sam stopped, the elation draining off his face. "But, you're coming WITH me, aren't you Dean?" he asked.

"I mean, you've said it yourself, I, I SUCK, at this hunting stuff and most Hunters don't hunt alone and-" Sam continued before Dean cut him off.

Dean cut Sam off by breaching the distance between them, his lips meeting Sam's.

"Mhm," Sam said, breaking the kiss. "Less of that during the Hunting" he said, looking down at the vampire currently grinning up at him like he was cake.

Sam rolled off the bed, picking up his ruined shirt from the chair where Dean had left it. It had gone through the wash, which hadn't helped the rips from the vamps at all. Sam sighed and dropped the shirt back onto the chair. Why did Dean always have to ruin his shirts?

"I think we need to visit town," he said when Dean re-entered the room, coming from wherever he kept his stash of blood hidden. "Get some supplies."

"What, you getting sick of diner food?" Dean asked, dropping down to sit beside Sam on the bed. "Want me to take you out to a proper restaurant? Parade around like a couple?" he asked, his hands moving across Sam's bare chest.

"God are you always up or is this horny week for you?" Sam asked in exasperation as Dean's pawing.

"Always 'up' for you Sammy," Dean said, kissing his neck carefully before releasing him.

"So why town?" he asked more seriously.

"I need more clothes." Sam said, "No, seriously!" he exclaimed seeing Dean's sardonic expression. "You keep ruining them." He plucked mournfully at the edges of his ruined shirt, a particularly hideous brown-orange plaid. "And I don't fit your clothes that well."

"Sasquatch." Dean muttered under his breath. He could practically feel Sam beginning to develop one of his patented bitchfaces. "Yeah yeah, clothes it is."

"We'll have to stick to second hand stores, I'm not sure how far the last of the credit cards will stretch-" Sam started.

Dean interrupted. "Don't worry about it. I've more money than I know what to do with."

"Besides" he said, "Bigger stores means bigger changing rooms. And who knows, maybe some of those upscale places will have cameras," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Sam.

Sam laughed. "We are NOT, having sex in a department store changing room." he said. "Not again,"

"We'll see about that," Dean murmured, wrapping his arms around Sam. "Betcha I can convince you,"

"Good luck," came the reply. Dean did so love a challenge.

Light rock music played through the speakers of the Impala and Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, Sam asleep in the backseat. It hadn't taken long for them to pack up the few things they'd accumulated at Dean's house and then pick out new clothes for Sam from the nearest department store. (Sadly Sam had kept it to mild groping in the department store).

Dean had contacted a few of his associates and found out a few more things about Revenants. Unlike the more human vampires they tended to track down certain people who were important to them in the past, so they were headed to Sam's home base. It was the perfect Hunter's base, almost an abandoned town in its own right, it had started as a run-down farm when Samuel and Deana had bought it, and then over the years they'd built it up over the years. They'd enlarged the original farmhouse and built an entire new house for the Hunters and general populace (Hunter's kids, etc.), leaving the barn for car and weapon storage.

Or so Sam had told him. The place was located only a few days drive from Dean's place, if he stuck to highways and night driving. Unlike Sam Dean didn't HAVE to sleep each night unless he wanted to, so he could keep driving while Sam slept.

Dean didn't really want to get to Sam's home base that quickly of course; if they did they might meet John there. From what he'd picked up, Revenant's couldn't be changed back, or given any sort of 'therapy'.

From the description they seemed more like the common werewolves, the ones who had caught lycanthropy as a disease, not by birth. The common werewolves were stuck changing with the moon, and usually went on a little murderous hunting spree when they changed, waking up with no memories when the moon waned. Revenants seemed to be the vampiric version of this, only they were stuck in that form.

But that didn't make any sense. Not from how Lucy had acted anyway. Sure she'd been mildly crazy, but she'd still been able to speak, reason, and plan. He just didn't know enough.

Dean sighed and let the car drift off to the side of the road. All of this mental arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. There was a reason he'd become an assassin. Get in. Kill things. Get out. Get laid. Get paid.

The car idled for a moment while Dean did a rough scan of the 'neighbourhood'. Bare dirt road, with a few trees overhead. Fine with him.

Dean turned the car off and got out, walking around to slide into the back with Sam.

Sam twitched when Dean crawled into the back seat over his legs, his eyes opening just a little to show sleepy hazel. He really did look adorable when he was just about to go to sleep or wake up. His bangs would inevitably end up in his face, never mind that they were getting too long. It reminded Dean of a puppy. An oversized puppy maybe, but a puppy nevertheless.

Dean settled down to sleep beside Sam, nudging him back further on the seat so they could both fit. Sam grumbled, more than half-awake now, and shifted. Sam wrapped an arm around Dean and pulling him close, his breath teasing the back of Dean's neck.

End Chapter

The next stuff is written (mostly), but it will have to wait until I'm moved into the new hovel...


	2. Chapter 2: Family History

Chapter 2: John's Family History

A/N

Sorry there was/is such a delay; I had to get the right emotions here (I'm listening to Taylor Swift's "White Horse" and The Veronica's "Revenge Is Sweeter Than You Ever Were" for John's stuff. * Cringes *). There is a bunch of later stuff written and planned. Hopefully once I'm moved into the new hovel there will be more written/posted.

The hospital walls were a sickly white. It was funny how you never noticed the colors of things unless you really looked at it. They might call the walls here white, the same color as an egg or a piece of paper, but it wasn't the same at all. Eggs were happy things.

Nearby was Mary, sobbing dryly in the bed still, her mother clasping her hand. Mister Campbell – Samuel- he had to keep reminding himself, was standing alongside, his fists clenched. He could see the lines of tension in Samuel's body. It was the hopeless tension of someone who desperately wanted to do something but couldn't.

That was how he was supposed to feel. He should be feeling sad, angry, unhappy, anything. But he didn't.

No. That was a lie. Deep down, somewhere he was trying to shove it down, was glee. GLEE for a dead baby. Glee for what was supposed to be HIS dead baby. His dead son. He hadn't even seen the body.

He could imagine it though. Somehow it turned out as a little body, perfectly formed, just a little bit too small. It would have his dark hair, but baby soft, and Mary's green eyes. He'd been thinking of calling it after one of his mates from the war, Dean Sauwer. No need for a name now.

John stood up quietly and left the room, the door swinging closed behind the scene.

He hadn't belonged there at all. Not with Mary, a girl who pretended to be all sweetness but could throw as good a right hook as any man. Nor Deana, who was fiercely protective of her daughter and who seemed to see him as somewhat less of a man, like something was missing. Especially not anywhere near Samuel, who had hated him from the start. The son of the mechanic...

John got into the stupid brown van Mary had convinced him to get and drove off. It was midday, not a good time for the bars, but he wasn't planning on going anywhere local.

If he did Samuel would turn up a few hours later and haul him back to the hospital, back to Mary.

It was entirely Samuel's fault they were married at all. It had just been a town he'd stopped in on his way back home to sell the family land off to a cousin. But a few nights sleeping with girls from around town, and then a few nights had turned into a few weeks, and a few months. He hadn't been really dating her, since he was still going around with a few of the other girls, but it wasn't like they'd talked about it being anything special had they? It wasn't HIS fault certainly.

Then it had turned up that she was pregnant.

He'd told her straight up that he didn't want a family yet. Not that he'd been opposed to her, but not THAT interested either. It wasn't like he'd even met her family formally then either.

She'd taken it entirely the wrong way and the next thing he knew, he was laying on the floor and she was stalking out of the place with tears streaming down her face. In fury he knew now, not sadness or fear of losing him like he'd thought then.

Then Samuel had come around and it had turned into a shotgun marriage. He'd threatened John with just about anything he could think of; disembowelment, decapitation, dishonorable discharge from the U.S military (he hadn't even known Samuel was IN the military, but apparently he had friends), excommunication, and about a hundred other things.

So it had turned into a shotgun marriage. It was nine months ago to the day almost. Mary had worn a loose white dress, he'd worn an ill-fitting rented suite, and they'd gotten married in Deana's garden under the cherry trees with most of Mary's extended family there.

It had a few quiet weeks after that, with him settling in to a job at the local mechanics, and Deana and Mary had been as happy as any two birds, planning for the baby. He'd met some of her cousins, and her sister's Rebecca and Leah, "The Twins," had stayed after the wedding to get to know him. They'd built an entire extension onto the side of the main house for him and Mary and the baby. Never mind that he'd been looking at getting an apartment in town so he could be closer to his job.

Then Samuel and some of the cousins had left him and Mary home, going off to go 'hunting.' That had been odd. Leaving your pregnant daughter's new husband home instead of taking him on a hunting trip? It had left a sour taste in his mouth. Especially when Deana had gotten a call late at night and driven off without a word to anyone but Mary. Mary had stared out the window white as a sheet, and he had asked her what was wrong but she wouldn't tell him.

He'd gone out drinking that night, and stayed at a friend's house for the next day. When he'd came back, he'd found the family there, bloody and tired, and not a single hunting trophy nor any deer meat or whatever it was hunter's brought back. Samuel had torn a strip into him about leaving Mary alone, before Deana stopped him, saying John wouldn't have been able to help against, well, whatever it was.

As if a military man couldn't protect his family!

He'd stormed off, driving the stupid van like a flower child and spent the next days sleeping at the garage and the van alternately.

When he'd come home, they'd sat him down at the table and explained things. Told him all about 'demons' and 'ghosts' and all the things that went bump in the night. Then they'd told him how they hunted them.

He hadn't believed them at first. Had stormed off, thinking it was a ploy to get rid of him, since clearly none of them wanted him in the family in the first place.

Instead, in the basement, they'd shown him a man chained up and bloody. Half dead if he was any judge. He'd run forward, because clearly they were mad. (He'd half thought they were murderers, luring HIM into some sick trap; Mary barely looked pregnant, she was almost as skinny as the day they'd met).

Samuel had pulled him back before the man could rip his throat out. The man, beast, werewolf, whatever it was, had leapt forward, its teeth growing huge over slavering jaws. The man had half changed then, showing bloody claws instead of fingers, sharp, protruding teeth, and smelling of blood and shit.

He'd known then it was true. He hadn't been able to watch as Samuel killed it, but he'd gone later to help Deana dig the grave and throw the mess of the body into it. They'd tossed salt in after it, and burned it with nary a prayer. This was worse than war somehow, this cold-blooded killing and nights spent shoveling unmarked graves and lying to cops and his friends at the garage...

He'd hated it.

John pulled off at the nearest motel lights, shining red and orange in the night. A motel coupled with a bar, just what he needed.

He waited a moment in the parking lot, letting the car idle and letting his thoughts slow down.

They were mad. He couldn't live like that. With no baby along the way, there was no reason for him to stay with her. It had all been a mistake and unplanned. Hell, she'd probably be happy he was gone.

What was the point of them being married if she couldn't even have his kids after all? Suddenly her felt something other than the pushed-down glee. Anger. Anger at Mary and her stupid family for dragging him into the whole thing, anger at them for treating him like some sort of idiot civilian when he'd been to war!

John turned off the car and walked out, getting a room in the motel before heading for the bar.

Inside were the usuals: Bikers and truckers, pretty waitresses and a woman serving at the bar.

John sat down at one of the stools and waited till he had the barmaid's attention, flashing her a charming smile when he did.

"What'll it be darlin'?" she asked, pushing her chest forward slightly and leaning toward him.

Merope her nametag read.

"Straight up shot of whisky to start Merope," he replied. "So, where's a pretty name like that come from anyway?"

Afternotes: Yes, I know Merope is Oediopus' adoptive mother's name, but since his real mother's name is Jocasta, and Sam (and Adam) have a cousin named Jo... well, can anyone guess what's going to happen?


	3. Chapter 3: Lies of Omission

Chapter 3: Lies of Omission

Adam Chandler sat at the bus stop outside of university. He'd just finished a fitness class. It had been something yoga-ish, and he'd only gone in for the hot blond girl in the blue short-shorts. He'd spent most of the class watching her jump up and down on the little step-thing from behind, to the extent of tripping on his own and falling.

Merope Chandler had raised Adam with no particular father in sight. She'd had several reoccurring boyfriends, like Mark from the gas station, or Louis the repair guy, and half a dozen men he could never remember.

Except for John Winchester. His mother had mentioned him once or twice, and he'd even come around when Adam was a kid, acting like all of his other fake dads. He'd taken him out to a ball game, bought him an oversized glove and hotdog, the usual. But weirdly it had seemed, different, with John. Almost real.

When he was 12, he'd found his birth certificate, and it had been John's name on it, though by then John was turning up less and less often. He did make a point of handing Adam's mom money every so often, "for Adam's college fund," he'd always said.

But Adam hadn't seen his father in a few months, hadn't even gotten a phone call.

So it was a complete surprise to him when he saw his father walking along the university street, drunk out of his mind.

Adam sprang to his feet, leaving his bag on the bench. "Dad!" he shouted, waving a hand and jogging up to meet him.

John was leaning over the sidewalk onto the road and retching emptily.

"Dad!" Adam exclaimed, grabbing John's shoulder and grabbing awkwardly at it as John vomited into the gutter.

Or onto the gutter more like, what with all the chunks. It looked like...

"Dad is that blood?" Adam asked, concern now coloring his voice. He pulled John's shirt collar until he could see his face.

John's jaw was slack, bloody drool hanging viscously from his mouth like a trail of dead caterpillars. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes blood shot around them. Not normal blood shot either, it looked like the iris of his eye had started to burst, and the blood veins were hemorrhaging into it like an egg cracking open.

"Dad, John," Adam said, pulling his father away from the road. It was dark, a bus could come at any moment and if John were too close to the edge, Adam didn't even want to think about it. "Come on Dad, wake up," he said, lying John on his back.

John heaved and Adam caught a rank scent coming from his father. "How much did you drink old man?" he muttered under his breath, leaning away from the stench. Weird, for a second there he'd thought he'd caught a whiff of his mother's perfume, but it couldn't be.

An inaudible noise came from John's mouth and Adam bent down. "What is it Dad?" he asked.

John's arm came up and his eyes focused, catching on Adam's. Adam felt as though the entire world was dropping away from under him, it was as though he'd fainted, but instead of blackness he could still see his father.

His father's teeth seemed far too long. Sharp and jagged at the edges, like old broken glass stuck at odds in a human mouth. Adam blinked and the teeth seemed to grow larger, shining under the fluorescent lights. There was little bit of flowery fabric stuck between two of the teeth.

Adam reached a hand forward slowly, feeling as though his arm was moving through quicksand. John growled, a deep, guttural sound from his belly, and the pong of blood swept across Adam's face like wind.

The cloth came free with a sharp tug and Adam narrowly avoided cutting himself on the glass. He couldn't understand why there was glass in his father's mouth. Where had his regular teeth gone? He giggled and felt his body fall back down onto the curb as John leapt away.

"Not"

There were words coming now. Adam gazed up at his father, a dark figure under the orange lights.

"Again."

He wasn't entirely sure of what he was hearing, but it was FUNNY. Very funny. Adam giggled and let himself fall back down onto the pavement, his head hitting the cement with a hard crack.

He watched his father glowing under the lights for a second, the hard light softening when it reached his leather jacket, before John seemed to vanish before his eyes, a flittering shadow in between the only tell.

Dean pulled the Impala slowly up to the wooden gates of Sam's family property. On the gate there was a rusty sign that said "Private Property: Enter At Own Risk." Below was an older, elaborately carved wood sign entitled "The Campbell Ranch" with the little symbols around it. At least two were Nephilim, though Dean hadn't had enough dealings with Nephilim to really know them all.

It was funny. Dean had 'come out' so to speak, to Sam about the whole vampire thing, but Sam hadn't told him about the Nephilim. Even after Dean had explained the vampirism, Sam hadn't come up with a similar explanation for his odd life style. How many humans after all, ended up tangling with the supernatural and surviving WITHOUT running into Nephilim? Damn few, that's how many.

But Sam was so untrained; he'd barely known about vampires at all when Dean had met him. The only thing Dean could think was that Sam didn't know, but who'd keep such vital information from someone they were hunting with. Never mind that he hadn't told Sam, he told himself, pushing aside the slight twinge of guilt. It was just an idea, and it wasn't like he was supposed to tell people about the Nephilim... But then he wasn't supposed to tell people about vampires either.

Dean glanced at the sleeping figure beside him that was Sam. He'd chosen to stay up front with Dean rather than go to sleep in the back. His head was uncomfortably couched between his shoulder and the side of the seat, a blanket Dean had left in the backseat covering his knees.

Dean nudged him, watching Sam wake up slowly. He loved watching him wake up. He'd go through various stages of puppy looks, from sleepy to annoyed at being awakened, to something else. And his hair would flop into his eyes. Dean loved Sam's hair.

"Hey," Sam said muzzily, stretching in his seat. "We here?" he asked nodding at the gate.

"Yeah," Dean said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Interesting designs on the sign," he commented idly.

Sam shrugged. "It's just Grandma Deana's artistic side coming out. She draws all kinds of stuff like that. Doesn't mean anything," he said.

"So are we going in?" he asked, stretching at far as he could in the seat, the blanket falling onto the floor.

"Yeah," Dean said, and jerked his head in the gate's direction. Sam got out and unlatched the gate while Dean drove the Impala through, waiting for Sam to re-latch the gate after them before getting back into the car.

"It's almost morning you know," Sam observed, "The sun'll be up in maybe half an hour. Do you want me to take the wheel?"

"Nah," Dean replied. "It'll be fine. I don't burn in the sun like the Mongrels."

They drove in silence for a while more.

"Should you," Sam started and then stopped awkwardly. "I mean, with the whole, Hunter thing," he gestured vaguely with his hands.

Dean glanced to the side and grinned at the sight of Sam's distraught face. Bitchface #28, he thought.

"I've been around Hunters for years Sam," he replied to the implied question. "I'll be fine,"

Dean stopped the Impala outside what looked like a mix between a farm, a junkyard, and an army camp. There was a large red farmhouse with beige additions on the side and a dilapidated blue structure on one side. Cars were lined up in vague rows behind it in what had been a field fading into cherry trees at the back. Across from the farmhouse were multiple other houses, a modified barn, and more cars, all loaded up with what could only be a Hunter's arsenal.

They sat uncomfortably in the car for a moment, watching the sun rising up. Dean noticed that Sam kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of his eye, almost s though he were sure Dean would vanish.

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder, "Come on Sasquatch," he said, climbing out of the car "We may as well get it over with."

Sam reluctantly got out after Dean, standing with his shoulder's hunched inwards.

"They might have breakfast too you know," Dean said, walking towards the farmhouse.

Sam followed reluctantly, jogging to catch up with Dean.

"Wrong door," he said, pulling Dean away from the door with a 'Welcome' mat in front of it.

"It's this one," Sam pulled Dean around the corner to a smaller door between the farmhouse and one of the beige additions.

Dean followed Sam into a brightly lit kitchen, where an older woman with was setting flowered plates at the table for the few kids running in and out of the room. The woman gasped when Sam came in and grabbed the handgun from her hip to point it at Sam.

"Salt," she demanded of one of the kids and one passed her the table salt. She unscrewed the cap and shook it at Sam and Dean liberally.

"Deana, " Sam protested, shaking grains off salt off.

"Look, it's ME Grandma" He continued, pulling a silver knife out of his jacket pocket and drawing a line along his arm. Dean could smell the sudden hint of blood along with the cooking sausages. "I'm not a demon, or a shapeshifter, or anything else. Okay?" he asked.

Sam shot a brief guilty look at Dean. He knew the silverware had come from.

The woman looked hard at Sam for a moment before her gaze shifted to Dean. "And him?" she asked.

"He's fine too," Sam said with a sigh. "I've checked,"

Deana's expression didn't change.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward to grab the knife from Sam, cutting a line across him wrist. "See?" he asked.

Deana lowered the gun, her expression still wary. "So where have you been boy that you couldn't call to tell me you were coming?" she asked, replacing the gun at her hip.

"Just, busy, forgot, stuff" Sam said abstractly, running his hand through his hair and pushing his bangs back out of his face. He stepped forward only to be met with a splash of water in the face. A second splash aimed at Dean hit mostly on his jacket.

"Listen, I've got something to tell you about the Job we were on, Samuel and my Dad and Andrew," Sam began.

"Well, you'd best sit down for breakfast," Deana replied. "And we'll talk about it after."

"You can explain where your friend came from too," she added, ushering them into seats at the table.

Dean let out a sigh. Pancakes. Home-cooked sausage. Pie, too it looked like, for lunch. Mhmm, pie...

"You're not getting any." Sam said, catching Dean looking at the pie. "Not till lunch anyway."

Dean smirked and leaned in to brush his fingers along Sam's neck. "Wanna bet?" he asked, his voice a low purr.

Sam flinched, pushing Dean's hand away.

"None of that here Dean," he hissed, looking furtively about to make sure no one was near. "They don't KNOW, okay?"

Dean felt like grabbing Sam and plunging his tongue into Sam's mouth right about there, but the scared, bright little look in Sam's eyes stopped him. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Fine," he said, the word heavy with annoyance.

Sam looked at him from under his bangs. "Thanks," he said, his voice so tight the words came out as a squeak.

It wasn't until after lunch that Sam and Dean got a chance to sit down and talk to Deana about what had happened.

"And that's what happened," Sam finished lamely. He'd told Deana that Dean was a Hunter, one they'd picked up randomly for the hunt, who'd been ambushed along with the rest of them. Sam had meshed Lucretia and John's transformation in with the ambush, saying that John had gone missing a few days before they'd found the nest.

He'd implied they'd been on the road since then, avoiding the vampires and aiming to get back to base.

Deana set her cup of tea down on the table, her face unreadable. "Is it now?" she asked, her eyes flicking from Dean to Sam. "Well, if that's all you're going to tell me, then I won't push for more. Lord knows we all have our secrets in this family; you're entitled to your own as much as anyone else is."

Sam blushed at the last bit and Dean hid a smirk behind his cup of coffee. Nasty stuff, tea.

"So there's been no word about John." Sam asked, "Nothing, not even in the papers?"

Deana shook her head. "Nope. And Ash hasn't picked anything up on his newfangled computer thing in weeks. Nothing supernatural headed this way as far as we can tell.

Sam sighed deeply and tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Guess we should head back onto the road then," he said finally, glancing at Dean, who nodded in acquiescence.

"I'll call if I have news," Deana said. "Don't worry about it too much Sam, we'll find your father."

End Chapter


	4. Chapter 4: Ring Around The Rosy

**Chapter Four: Ring Around The Rosy**

Deana Campbell sat at the kitchen table, reading the daily newspaper. Whining about building a mine, some smiling children, a hit and run, nothing important She flipped to the second page and skimmed over it. Here was something: University student Adam Chandler Claims Attacked By Crazed Drunk.

There was a little blurb about the boy, his grades, what he thought had happened, written in with subtle little hints that questioned whether he was mentally stable, or on drugs.

In a Hunter's world, if the rest of the world dismissed it as fantasy, it was usually true. It had usually happened, and would happen again unless stopped.

Deana sat the paper back down and made a note in the little daybook she kept at her elbow. She'd send one of the boys, Ash or Max or whoever to go and check it out, maybe take some of the older kids with them for practice. There was something about the name though, Chandler, Chandler, where had she heard it before? She knew there was something special about it but couldn't think what...

"Does your family always give you such a warm greeting?" Dean asked, stepping forward into motel room. Salt crunched under his boot emptily. Sam had put up wards. Badly drawn wards from what he could see. An entire life spent with Hunters and Sam was awful at it. He mentally adding protection wards to the martial arts Sam badly needed training in. The martial arts at least should be fun. Dean smirked at the thought.

They'd left Deana's house after finding nothing, choosing to search the nearby bars and garage's John had been known to visit. So far nothing had come up.

Sam looked up from the bed he was lying on. There hadn't been a King available so they'd taken two Queens.

"Give or take a bit yeah," he said, his eyes flicking back to the newspaper.

Dean did not like how Sam had been acting towards him. It was like he'd been ignoring him, but wasn't... He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He crawled up beside Sam on the bed and laid his head across Sam's stomach, pushing the newspaper down.

Sam shifted his arms around Dean so he could lift the newspaper back up. Dean squirmed in closer, his head coming up to rest on Sam's shoulder, the rest of his body across one of Sam's arms, effectively trapping it beneath him.

"I'd rather wait a day or so Dean," Sam said, pushing Dean off and resettling. Dean amicably rolled off of Sam, coming to stop with his head on his pillow. He tugged at Sam's arm, urging him to move.

"We don't HAVE to wait for you to recover Sam," he said with a smirk. "I can play bottom too." He reached a hand across to scratch at the stubble on Sam's jaw. Until the cut healed over he wouldn't be able to shave so he was getting pretty rough. Dean had seen him scratching at it before.

Sam rolled onto his side, showing Dean his back. "I'd rather not." he said, getting up to sit at the tiny table with the newspaper.

Dean let it go. Sam hadn't fucked him in over a week now. Things were beginning to get weird, but with the hunt going on and how they'd been fighting before... Dean let it go.

"Fine." he said. "I'm going to take a shower."

Sam stayed on the bed.

"So you're Adam Chandler," the woman stated, sipping a cup of coffee. She was seated inside a tiny apartment drinking less-than-fresh coffee to interview the young man from the newspaper.

The man, boy really (he wasn't that much older than Sam), nodded in acquiescence.

"So did you know the man who attacked you?" she asked, pulling her notebook out like a good fake cop.

"Yeah," Adam said, and then stopped, running his hand through his hair. "Or, I thought I did."

"Oh?" Deana asked. It was better to let people put things into their own words sometimes, rather than asking specific questions. If you asked specific questions, they could lie, either by accident or on purpose, without actually lying. Like if you asked a person if they'd drunk anything at their home before getting in their car to go to a party, and they said no. In reality, they could have not drunk at home, and then gotten to another place, gotten a drink there, and then driven off to the party location.

"He, he sorta looked like my Dad see?" Adam said, gesturing with his hands. "But, I haven't SEEN my Dad in a few years, and he, -the guy who attacked me, I mean- was acting weird,"

Deana nodded, "Weird how?" she asked. "Did he seem on drugs, intoxicated, out of his own mind?"

Adam shook his head. "No, it was like he was sick, really sick. His eyes were blood-shot and stuff, and he smelled AWFUL,"

"I mean, he was falling all over me, and THAT was kind of weird in itself, but it didn't seem like he was in proper control of himself, like he was really drunk,"

"And does he have a history of alcoholism?"

"No," Adam ducked his head. "Well yes, sort of."

"He met my mom working in a bar, he was getting really drunk that night from all accounts, and things just, developed from there," he said, waving his hand vaguely.

"And your mother is?" Deana asked. This was important. Often one parent involved in the Supernatural could pull in another.

"Merope Chandler," Adam replied.

"So your parent's were separated?"

"No, I mean he turned up with money and stuff, but they weren't, official. I don't think he had another family or anything though,"

"And what was your father's name again?" Deana asked. There hadn't been any Chandler's involved in anything that she knew offhand. She had a vague idea of some Chanlder's at the local church actually, one of the generic suburban families. It would mean a lot of research if the father didn't have a tie to something.

"John," Adam replied. "John Winchester,"

Dean looked up sharply.

"What?" Adam asked. "Was my dad involved in something? I mean, I always had this crazy idea as a kid that he was some sort of FBI agent or something..."

"Not exactly." Deana put her cup down on the table very slowly. "I think," she said, "You'd better come with me."

Adam looked at her querulously. "Why?" he asked.

"There is a lot of explaining to do here boy, and not all of it is going to be pleasant."

A day or so after the first motel they were still on the road looking for John. Dean still hadn't been screwed.

"More Diner food?" Sam complained as Dean slid into the car and passed him a paper bag. They'd been on the road for a day and a half, and Sam was already considering 'accidentally' dropping Dean's cassette box. Cassettes. he knew Dean was a technology challenged vampire (he'd asked Sam what MySpace was when Sam had mentioned it), but CASSETTES? And he had exactly the same taste in music as John. Mullet Rock. Eug.

"Not just DINER food," Dean said. "CHINESE diner food." He bit into a pork ball with relish.

Sam looked at his unhealthy fried rice with noodles, fried chicken dumplings, and a few things he couldn't identify. There was a little box that kind of looked like fries but that he strongly suspected were chicken's feet.

"Won't he have already gotten there?" Sam asked, picking at the least-greasy portion of his rice. " I didn't think of it before, but, you can move super-fast so..." he trailed off meaningfully.

Dean chased at a stray noodle hanging off his chopstick obscenely. "He'll be stopping to feed too Sam," he said, giving up on the chopsticks and grabbing a fork out of bottom of his bag. "Besides, it's kind of disorienting, newly Changed. I doubt Revenants are any better than us Standards." he remarked.

"How was your change then?" Sam asked curiously.

There was a silence where Dean pretended not to hear Sam and played around with his food intently.

"We'll be there by tomorrow I think," Dean said, grabbing an unidentifiable blob of meat, referring to the next place they were going to check.

Sam gave up. Dean made a point of telling him little things about vampires, joked about how much faster he was than Sam, and made a point of rubbing up against his cuts for fun. He might be wrong, Dean could just have a pain kink, but it seemed like a pretty clear message to Sam. Dean utterly failed at being subtle.

"How come you don't get fat eating all of that?" Sam asked, noting how much Dean was eating.

Dean shrugged. "I'm a vampire Sammy, I'm just that awesome."

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to eating.

"So how's the research end of things?" Dean asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing really."

"There was some guy attacked a few towns over from where I lived, Adam Chandler. We could check it out if nothing else turns up."

The room fell silent as they finished eating.

"That makes the two stops." Dean said. "Then the trail goes cold, you know,"

The pause made Sammy look up.

"We might not find him that easily," Dean said. "I mean, look at Lucy-"

The look on Sam's face made him stop. It was the same sort of cold fury he'd seen reflected in the mirror the few times he'd let himself think of Lucy. His little sister...

"So are you sure you checked out all of his buddies Dean?" Sam asked, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Got them all, along with a few bonuses."

Sam glared at him. "Having fun screwing dumb blonds Dean?" he asked.

Dean slammed the cardboard container of noodles down onto the table.

"What is with you on that Sammy?" he asked, his voice a snarl. "How else am I supposed to get food out here?" Dean was clearly not referring to the Chinese food in his hand.

"It's not like I can just pick up a pint or two at the supermarket, and with your damned family watching the area, the hospitals are out too. Hell, three of your cousins are nurses!" He snapped.

Sam's face darkened. "Then take off!" he replied. "I can find John on my own! I certainly don't need you trailing after me!"

Dean stood up, knocking his chair to the floor. "Oh?" he retorted furiously. "Don't need me? Huh, 'cause the way I remember it, you definitely needed me when Vlad and his little posse ambushed you, and when you got kidnapped by Lucy and damn near everything else!"

"Like Lucy would've even gone after me if it hadn't been for you!" Sam spat back.

"That is not my fault and you know it." Dean countered, sitting back down and slammed his fist into the table hard enough to dent it. There went the damage deposit.

"Of course it's not," Sam replied sarcastically, getting up and pacing back and forth. "Just like it wasn't your fault when you went and hooked up with that blonde before I knew you were a vampire. Nor was it your fault when we were ambushed!"

"I had nothing to do with Vlad's-" Dean stopped. "You're not pissed about the ambush." he stated and Sam rolled his eyes in response.

"You're not pissed about the vampire thing, are you?" he asked hopefully. It would be very annoying to have to rehash the vampire thing. It wasn't like he killed people, and it wasn't like he took more than the blood banks did, so...

"No Dean," Sam said like it was obvious what he was referring to. "This is about the CHEATING thing." He quietly added 'you moron' under his breath.

"Cheating?" Dean asked, stunned. "How is it cheating?" he asked.

Sam looked outraged. This was a new form of his bitchface. Dean didn't like it very much. "How is it NOT cheating?" he asked, stopping his pacing. "Are you stupid?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply to THAT and Sam cut him off.

"All you do when we're out is chat up pretty girls, -or boys-! Don't think I didn't notice that guy in the bathroom! And then you cuddle up to them, and go off somewhere private and they come back sort of drunk, and YOU come back all happy."

Dean blinked.

"And I know," Sam continued, waving his arms in the air. "I know you need to feed, but seriously? How do you think that makes me feel when you're prancing off with them like-" Sam cut himself off, his voice tight, and threw himself back into his chair.

Dean gaped like a fish at him. "Sam," he started, reaching a hand across the table for Sam's. Sam quickly pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sam, come on," he pleaded. "It's a bar, how would it look if I did anything else?"

Sam jerked his head, his nostrils flaring angrily. "Doesn't make me feel any better." He said mulishly.

Dean stood up, moving to come up behind Sam's chair. He wrapped his arms around Sam and rubbed his jaw along Sam's hairline. "I don't, care about them," he said quietly, "If that's what you wanted to hear."

"That is NOT the point Dean!" Sam retorted angrily, jerking himself out of the chair.

He stood up and stepped away from Dean, his eyes flicking towards the door.

"Sam, Sammy," Dean said, taking Sam's hands. "Don't leave, come on, we JUST started getting things back to normal," (never mind that you won't fuck me now, he left unsaid).

Sam still looked angry. "I'm going out for a drink." he said, pulling away and reaching for his jacket.

"I'll drive you," Dean said, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"Alone." was the reply, and Sam left, leaving Dean to brood in the empty motel.

Dean was still sitting up in the motel room waiting for Sammy to come back when Sam's phone rang. He had left it in his bag instead of taking it with him. Dean let it ring a few times then rolled off his bed to grab it.

"Dean Forrester here, this is Sam Winchester's phone." he answered, his eyes flicking towards the door. He wasn't sure how Sammy would react if he found him on his phone after their fight.

The phone was silent except for breathing. "Right, Dean, where's Sam?" the person on the other end asked abruptly.

"He's uh, out, right now." Dean replied. "Who's this?"

"Deana," came the reply. "Listen, there's been a new development regarding his father. I think we may have found him."

"Hang on, hang on," Dean said, and then paced over to the table and grabbed the receipt from the take-out to write on. "Okay," he said, holding the phone between his shoulder and one ear. "Got it,"

Deana fed him the information.

Once she'd hung up Dean felt elated. Finally! New information! This at least would provide a buffer between Sam and him, what with the new fight and maybe once they could find John things could get back to normal. Or whatever semblance of normal they managed to work out once this was over he amended.

But however things turned out, the trail was no longer cold. Dean settled back down onto his bed and leaned back, a smug look on his face.

When Sam turned up at about 2 o'clock in the morning, drunk off his ass and collapsed onto the bed, Dean was less pleased. He'd finally gotten to sleep without a warm body beside him and the Sam went and fell on him.

"Stop dodging," Sam said blurrily. "No," he reached one arm out into the air, grasping at something invisible.

Dean nudged him with an elbow. "M' not dodging Sammy," he replied, muffled somewhat by Sam's weight. "Go to your own bed."

"Mmmm," was the drunken reply.

Dean pushed Sam off of him and onto his back. He was certainly in no condition to go anywhere.

Sam giggled briefly, then retched, turning over on his side to vomit over the side of the bed.

"God damnit Sammy!" Dean muttered under his breath, grabbing onto Sam's side so he wouldn't fall entirely off the bed.

"What did you drink?" he asked, smelling the foul smell of half-digested alcohol and Chinese take-out. With his vampire sense it was even worse than it would've been if he were human.

"Everything!" Sammy said gleefully, throwing his arms out as far as he could. He then puked again, this time getting more of it on the bed. Dean felt the wet liquid seeping through the bedspread to form a pool around him and Sam.

"Come on," Dean muttered, grabbing the clean(er) arm and pulling Sam up to his feet. "Let's get you to the bathroom, you idiot,"

He sat Sam down on the closed toilet seat, trusting the wall and sink on either side to keep him up if necessary. He reached under the sink and grabbed a rag and getting it wet under the faucet.

"M not an idio, idee, idea!" Sam slurred, drool slide down one side of his face to drip off his chin and onto his shoulder. He leaned his head against the wall, his hands coming up under his head in a parody of sleep.

"Oh yes you are," Dean replied quietly, wiping the drool off his face.

"F you're allowed t'cheat s'm I," Sam replied, clearly not following the conversation. "You're goin' t'leave me anyway, jus' li, like, John," he finished, his head lolling the other way.

Dean swallowed down the angry knot that had appeared in his throat when he'd heard Sam's confession of cheating. It wasn't like he LIKED hooking up with random people, not THAT much anyway. "I'm not going to leave you Sammy," he said when the knot was gone. "Promise."

Sam's head fell forward and came to rest on Dean's shoulder and he snored.

Sam awoke the next morning to a loud crash. He sprang from his bed, his knife in hand, ready for anything-

And then he tripped over the bedclothes, cut his hand on the knife and dropped it, falling to the floor in a clumsy heap.

"Have a good night?" Dean asked in an overly cheery voice.

Sam's head pounded. "No," he said, opening his eyes.

"Neither did I." Dean said pointedly, dropping Sam's already-packed bag on the floor beside him.

"So you're going to torture me now?" Sam asked plaintively. "How is that fair?"

Dean was grinning somewhat manically now. "It's just as fair as calling my feeding cheating," he said with a growl.

Sam raised his head off the floor slightly. "I'm pretty sure that's still cheating Dean." he replied.

"Of course it is." Dean replied sarcastically, stomping over to grab a chair from the table and planting it beside Sam's head.

"So, Sam," he continued. "Do you remember anything in PARTICULAR from last night?"

Sam tried to remember. "No," he said, letting his head slump back down onto the floor. "Can't you just be angry at me later Dean?"

"Nope." Dean replied. "No, I think we're doing this now."

Sam groaned.

"So, you don't remember any important little confessions? Hmm?" he asked, tapping on the side of the chair with one finger.

"No,"

"Let's see, how about I fill you in then?" Dean asked.

"For starters let's talk about how you went out and decided to screw around, ON PURPOSE." he continued without waiting for an answer.

"Let's talk about how you don't have a REASON to go off and hook up with random people, since YOU'RE not a vampire, Hmm?"

Sam groaned and pulled the closest blanket over his head.

"And don't forget Sammy, YOU'RE not the one who's dating someone who's family is out to get you!"

"Dean," Sam started, peaking out from under the blanket slightly.

"What?" Dean asked. "You going to tell me how you think it's fair? How you can go off and screw whoever just because I'm stuck with feeding from whatever's closest?"

"Didn't," Came the reply.

"Right," Dean scoffed, leaning back in the chair.

Sam closed his eyes. "I went and got liquor from the store next door and got drunk in the field out back stupid," he said. "There wasn't anyone TO hook up with,"

Dean blinked in surprise and Sam sighed. "And I wouldn't. I get it, 'kay?" he said, opening his eyes to look at Dean. They were rimmed in red, making the hazel appear ever so much more green.

"Just stop yelling, okay I get it Dean." Sam continued, pulling his head back under the blanket, apparently content to go back to sleep under the blanket.

Dean looked at the blanket-covered mess that was Sam. He'd stripped him down to his boxers last night after he'd puked all over himself and spent most of the night holding onto him while he vomited into the previously empty containers of take-out. The motel room was going to be one hell of a mess for the cleaners.

"Come on then," Dean said, wrapping an arm around Sam and pulling him up into a sitting position. "You can sleep in the car."

Sam looked at him querulously from under his bangs.

"Your grandmother called last night," Dean said. "She thinks she's found John,"

Sam immediately tried to stand up and fell over.

"Whoa," Dean said, looping the arm around his neck, his other arm coming around Sam's waist to keep him upright. "First you're getting cleaned up." he said. "There's no way I'm letting you into my car smelling like that."

End Chapter

Afternotes: No Sam did not cheat. Non-reviewers shall be licked by Adam. And not in a good way. Reviewers shall get pie. ;)


	5. Chapter 5: Confessions and Arguments

**Chapter Five: Confessions:**

A/N (blinks in surprise); apparently people like being licked by Adam... maybe I'll make him do a strip tease later for you Adam-fans...

Disclaimer: Yes, that's right, Cassandra Claire, Eric Kripke, and whoever wrote GhostBusters are all the same person and I'm writing fanfic... SUUURRREEE.

(Kidding, I'm not, I have no legal right to any of it, and I am making no money from any of it. I'm keeping the pleasure I get from writing it though. That is mine.)

Gravel crunched under the wheels of the Impala as Sam and Dean drove back up the drive to the Campbell ranch.

Dean stopped the car and cast a look at Sam, who was sitting in the front seat, his head against the window.

"Fine, I'll get the gate," he muttered under his breath and climbed out. Sam was still hung over, or possibly drunk. He'd made a point of playing his music just a little louder than necessary to annoy him.

Once they'd gotten in sight of Deana's house Dean stopped the car again and handed Sam his phone.

"Better call her, I'd rather not get more salt dumped on me." He said.

Sam raised blood-shot eyes to look at him. "Fine,"

"Hey, it's me, we're almost at the house," he said into the phone. "Yeah, tell Deana not to dump salt on us, okay?" Sam nodded a few more times then snapped the phone shut.

"So, my dad had another family?" Adam asked. "You, is he rich?" he asked, looking at the Campbell ranch. "This is like, a military base,"

"It's not all his," Deana said sharply. "This belongs to my late husband's family, John's family is from somewhere out west,"

"Oh," Adam said, looking discouraged following her to the door. "Do I have, like, a brother or something?"

Deana gave him a look. "Yep, a brother, and a whole lot of other stuff."

"A brother?" Adam asked. "John never mentioned anyone else."

"John and, " Deana stopped and sighed, sitting down at the table. She motioned for Adam to take a seat. "And my daughter Mary didn't exactly have the perfect marriage, and Sam, well, he was sort of stuck in the middle of it."

"How?" Adam asked. "Wait, is he older than me or younger?"

"Younger," Came the reply.

Adam blinked. "Why'd John marry your daughter then? If he met my mom first..." he flushed and stopped. "Er, not that, I mean,"

"You mean 'why did your father impregnate your mother and leave her?'" Dean muttered under her breath. Unlike Sam, she had no reason to like this other spawn on John Winchester. "John married Mary and they had a, miscarriage." she said louder.

"Then they had a separation period, during which I suppose you were, conceived, and then came back, for some reason, six months later."

Adam looked confused and opened his mouth.

"Nine months after that Sam turned up, healthy as a horse, and, that was it." Dean continued. "John spent the next few years on the road, working in the family business, and I guess, going off to visit you."

"Oh," Adam sat back down in his chair. "Why'd he leave my mom then?" he asked, an angry tone in his voice. "I mean, if he was with my mom, why'd he go back to Mary?"

Deana refrained from rolling her eyes. This boy was at least as selfish as John was. She smiled in a fake manner. "You'd have to ask him," she said.

There was an awkward silence.

"Sam should be here soon," she said. "He and Dean area few miles out from the last phone call."

"Is Dean my other brother?" Adam asked indignantly "How many brothers do I have here?"

"No," Deana replied in an overly even tone. "Dean's a friend of Sam's, from work."

"Ah," Adam replied, casting his eyes around the kitchen for something to look at. "Nice kitchen."

"Does he know?" Sam asked Deana under his breath.

"About what John did?" Deana asked. "No, not yet."

"What do I not know?" Adam asked, returning from the bathroom.

"Uh, you, uh, don't know about me," Sam said, clearly lying. "I'm, ah, Sam, your half-brother I guess." He walked forward and held out his hand.

Adam looked at it for a moment too long then shook it. "Adam." he said and took a seat at the kitchen table. Dean and Sam followed suit.

"So, what'd your mother do?" Sam asked awkwardly.

"Waitress." Adam replied. "Yours?"

"Family business." Sam retorted.

"That's what we wanted to talk to you about actually," Deana said. "What do you know about what John did?"

Adam shrugged. "Home inspection stuff, something to do with the government?" he said vaguely. "I know he had a few guns, he taught me how to shoot."

Sam's lips narrowed there. HIs father had bothered to teach Adam, who had a NORMAL life to shoot, but had left Sam to Deana and his cousins. What a nice father.

"Something like that," Deana said. "It's a bit of a family business; that's how John got in on it."

"You know the things that go bump in the night? The stories you hear on the news, the cases that go unsolved by the police?" she continued. "Well, more often than not, we're the one who're dealing with it."

Adam looked confused. "So it is government."

"Sure." Sam put in.

"I've even got a homeland security badge." Dean added smugly. He liked his homeland security badge.

"So, special government unit, thing, cool." Adam said. "So why are you talking to me? Dad didn't tell me anything about, whatever he's been up to."

There was an awkward pause where Deana caught Sam's eye.

"It's not about WHAT he was doing when you last saw him, it's was he IS." Deana started. "You see, we're not exactly hunting normal, human criminals, more, like,"

"More like the GhostBusters, only with more sex appeal." Dean interjected.

"GhostBusters?"

"Yeah, things that are a bit, 'supernatural,'" Sam said, shooting a look at Dean.

"Dude, I'm not stupid, I know alien's don't exist." Adam scoffed. "Seriously, what'd he do that's so important?"

"It's not about what he's done, not YET, it's about what he COULD do." Dean said. He hated it when peolpe danced around issues. The sooner they got this over with, the better. He'd had a LOT of experience dealing with telling people unpleasant truths; no matter how you couched it, it never worked out well.

"You know all the stories about vampires and demons and monsters under your bed?" he continued. "They're all true. And we," he cast a look at Sam and Deana. "We hunt them." Deana was glaring at him.

"Now, your father has been turned into a Rev-, into a kind of vampire," Dean started before Adam cut him off.

"What?" he said, instead of asked, an angry look on his face. "Do you think I'm really THAT stupid? Just because my mom's a waitress doesn't mean I'm an idiot you know,"

Sam leaned forward and opened his mouth to say something to the contrary before Adam continued.

"And another thing, this whole shit about vampires?" He asked. "Come on! Yeah, he was acting weird, but it wasn't like he bit me or anything. He was just really drunk. That's all."

"Stage one." Dean whispered. "Denial."

Sam stifled a smile behind his hand.

"You shut up you stupid fuck," Adam shot at him. "Sitting there laughing at me like I'm an idiot!"

"Seriously, what the hell am I here for?"

"Bait mostly I'd guess," Dean said offhand. "Since he went for you first, he's liable to come after you again."

"Unless of course he's got another family stashed away somewhere." he added.

"Shut the fuck up." Adam snarled, his nails digging into the tabletop.

"Dean..." Sam said, giving him another bitchface look from under his bangs.

"What?" he asked.

"You explain," Sam said to Deana, grabbing Dean's arm and tugging him to his feet. "Come on,"

"What the HELL was that Dean?" Sam asked once they were out of earshot. "He's probably the best shot we have at finding my dad and you're treating him like shit!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "'Cause you're being so much nicer." he shot back. "That was about as pleasant as a dinner between Yoko and the Beatles minus John. You could practically smell the tension."

"So?" Sam asked. "He's still the best lead we've got! And-" he lowered his voice, aware that a few of the kids in the yard were giving them a weird look. "What would you normally do with him anyway?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Like I said. Use him as bait obviously."

"You can't just," Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder. "He's human, you can't just, he wouldn't go along with it anyway!" he finished.

Dean smirked and leaned closer. "Mind control dummy." he said. "I do NOT need to convince idiots like him to do what I want."

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "Well we can't do that! So what's your plan for getting him on our side then oh wise-one?" he asked sarcastically.

Dean shrugged. "We don't need him on our side. We can just tie him up, maybe cut him a bit, and that should draw John in-"

"We're not doing that either Dean!" Sam snapped.

"We tell him it's in his best interests." Dean said finally. "That John's come after him once, and that if he's tied up as bait with us he'll at least have back up for John's next attack. He's pretty likely to just rip him to pieces otherwise you know."

Sam glared at him. "And you couldn't just let us ease him into the whole 'fighting monsters' thing because...?" he asked.

"Because it never goes well anyway." Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder and turning toward the house. "Come on,"

When they returned to the kitchen Deana had various artifacts and photographs spread out over the table.

"This doesn't prove anything." Adam said. "Any movie set could manufacture this stuff."

"Alright," Dean said, stepping in through the door after Sam and leaning against the frame. "If it's fake, then you don't have anything to risk by letting us conduct our little experiment with John."

"We stick you somewhere nice and visible, maybe dump some old blood from the hospital around you, and wait to see if John comes."

"If it's all fake," he continued, "Then you can go back to your normal boring life, and we can continue being mad hicks out here. If it IS true though, you've at least got back up."

Adam looked at Dean like he was crazy. "Yeah, and leave my dad out there, obviously drunk and hurt?" he asked. "You must be crazy."

Adam stood up, his face flushed and his eyes dark. "I'm out of here."

Dean shifted sideways so he was blocking him.

"Or, you could stay, since YOU don't have any leads either, and the police are treating this as a mad hoax." he said.

Deana cleared her throat. "You said it yourself, 'this is like a military base,' we're got everything the police and the hospital has, and we believe you."

Adam turned halfway to stare angrily at Deana. "Fine."

Dean sat across the table from Adam, watching the various Sam-like mutinous expressions flitter across his face. Apart from that there was barely any family resemblance. Adam was annoying, and stubborn, and convinced his father was just on some sort of extended bender and God why wouldn't he shut up already?

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, do you have a, library around here somewhere Deana?" he asked. He may have hated libraries but anything was better than this. "I'm a bit rusty on the lore and while you discuss strategy I'd like to catch up,"

"Sure." Deana replied, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her nose.

Adam looked pissed. He slammed his coffee cup down onto the table for the thousandth time. "Research!" He exclaimed. "I've told you! My father is NOT some kind of monster, all we need to do is just..."

Dean stopped listening. He very slowly stood up, inching out of his chair. If they didn't see him moving too much they might not notice if he left...

"Listen here boy! John is dangerous!" Deana started in again. Dean was half way through the door outside when Sam caught up with him.

"You can't just ditch me in there with them Dean!" Sam snapped. For once the bitchface expression was not charming or cute.

"Uh huh," Dean sighed. "Listen, I'm going to hit the books, 'Kay Sammy? You have fun."

He was NOT looking forward to researching Revenants. Research was possibly the most boring part of his job; tedious hours spent in a dusty, pokey library that hadn't seen any more action than mice was not his idea of fun. The mere idea of spending hours in the library was almost enough to make him rethink his decision to leave the table.

"You're fucking crazy you old hag!" Adam's shrill voice came from the nearest window.

Never mind.

Uh oh. Sam looked pissed at that. "Dean, I may not be that great at the actual Hunting part of the business-"

"You suck at fighting." Dean muttered and Sam glared at him.

"But I am PERFECTLY good at research!" Sam continued. "I got to do that even before they'd let me go Hunting." He finished, referring to his family.

"I'm kind of good at it actually," he said, almost as an after thought.

Dean was torn. On one hand he hated research, but on the other once a vampire had fed there wasn't a way to change them back. Not an easy, liable-to-survive-it way anyway. And if they managed to bring John back as a drooling, mumbling, dangerous human (messing with his mind wouldn't ruin any of his Hunter reflexes after all), having to deal with him would break Sammy's heart even more than having to kill him as a Revenant would. Like having a kid with terminal cancer have a 'miracle' and be let out of the hospital or whatever, and then a week later having them die. It would suck.

"Besides, it's MY family library." Sam said. "I know my way around it, -even if they've kept some stuff restricted-, and anyway" Sam stopped, almost as if he'd had a very clever idea.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "I am NOT staying in there to listen to that crap-"

"Don't you think Deana might need you?" Dean asked, "After all, Adam's a bit of a handful-"

"You sit down and behave yourself young man or I'll get out the swear jar! Now I don't want to hear another WORD comin' outta your mother!"

Sam and Dean winced simultaneously.

"If I wander off, just think, who's the most likely human for John to attack?" Sam continued once the noise had abated. "Other than Adam, I'm really good bait."

Dean jerked. Sam actually had a point...

"He'll go after me, because I'm his son; he's not even that close to Deana. The library's pretty well insulated too, how d'you know you'll even hear me? Plus, he's PISSED at me for the whole, you, thing," Sam finished awkwardly, waving a hand.

"Adam he kind of likes, I think," he continued. "Otherwise..." he didn't finish the sentence but the implication was clear.

Dean sighed. "Fine," He turned and blinked as he realized he didn't know which building the library was in. Hopefully nowhere near Adam or Deana.

The idea of being alone with Sam had its merits too. Maybe the library would get to see more action than mice.

"So where is it?" he asked, a dirty smirk on his face.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you."

End Chapter

I KNOW. They'll stop fighting soon and get back to crazy sex soon...maybe...probably...


	6. Chapter 6: Bait

**Chapter 6: Bait: Catching and Losing Your Prey**

A/N: John is on a SERIOUS high at the beginning... I know it makes no sense.. his head is scrambling his memories. There is at least one important bit of forshadowing there though. Also, I am not sure what they're using on John, it's some weird thing Dean or Deana has.. It basically renders vampires/co. super weak, as though they haven't drunk blood in a while = mummification/desiccation, but not death.

"Don't you love me?" A blond woman was shouting, her hands on a fat, pregnant belly. John was furious. Angry words pouring from his mouth right and then there was her, collapsing onto the floor, the baby pooling out on the floor as a bloody broken mess, his friend's Dean's face staring back at him from the blood like a reflection. His mouth moved silently as though he was drowning, the words lost in the following explosion as the bomb hit.

Mary had vanished, in her place was little Sammy, his hazel flecked eyed going hard and cold and red like the woman's. "I've got someone better now Daddy," he said, reaching up a hand to grasp onto the vampire's hand, leading him away.

That wasn't right. _Adam_ called him Daddy, not Sam. Sam hadn't met the vampire as a child; his eyes weren't red. Not yet. His eyes weren't red.

A car whizzed past, the angry driver yelling something out the window.

He remembered the yelling. He and Mary had been fighting, so much. Little Adam was hiding in the corner, but he wasn't born there. Mary didn't know about Adam. Where was his mother? John remembered leaving and then floating in black, brackish water, his thoughts escaping like fireflies from lanterns.

He'd set a fire, he remembered seeing his own reflection that night, eyes dark in his reflection, teeth feral. Not like his teeth now, but darker. Like the shadow of something hidden deep within him was coming forth, an ugly, pussy pustule of a personality showing.

Adam's mother smelled like roses and lavender and whiskey from the bar. There, between his fingernails, no, someone else's fingernails, blackened and long like the claws of a bear, was a bit of flower patterned fabric.

The smells. There was a family up ahead eating Donuts at a picnic table. One of them had a glandular disorder. He remembered the smell of that disorder. The bloody ripping of the girl's dress and the way her high heels had fallen to the ground. He'd stolen the high heels and in the mirror was a pretty girl with long curly hair for a while.

Why did he want Sammy to have green eyes?

John shook his head, letting himself fall forward onto the ground. The ground should be burning. He'd set it on fire, since he'd been caught and there was something important. There was another baby, one who wouldn't come out bloody like Dean and all misshapen but come out different.

Where was the floor? John ground his teeth into the earth, biting down hard. He wanted so much to bite something, to feel the way the meat just melted and came apart under his jaws. How there was that first tang of coppery blood rushing into his mouth. Then a jolt would run up his jawline like being hit by lighting and it would feel like he was drinking the best of liquor, burning down his throat but leaving a clear-cut pat to rest warm in his stomach.

There was something like that on the wind tonight. It was something that smelled like he was supposed to. He could feel how his body was going hard in bits and soft in others as he rotted. First the calcium would flood into his system, leaving him in rigor mortis, able to think and wander through his own muddled mind but not able to move until it dissipated and he began to rot. He'd go soft and then lie in wait. He'd catch something and then everything would be electrified and he'd feel almost NORMAL again...

John peeled himself off the ground and set off in the direction of the scent.

Sam reached down once more to check the notes holding Adam to the tree outside the nearest town. After much arguing, coffee, and swearing (Deana had threatened to bring the swear jar back) over the past few days they had agreed that tying Adam up as bait near one of John's old drinking hangouts was a decent plan.

Previous to that and for good measure they'd drained half a pint off of Adam and laid a trail, infusing it magically (yes, they were _Hunters_ and not supposed to but it happened.). Hopefully it would be enough to get John to turn up sooner or later, since it had been well established that he cared far more about Adam than Sam (though only he'd said as much, and then only to Dean). Sam was feeling somewhere between smug and guilty that Deana hadn't told Adam about his mother's body found outside her workplace.

Dean and Deana were already waiting in the bushes. Sam had been surprised that Deana was doing fieldwork, having been retired for years from it. But, he was her only grandchild from Mary, Samuel's favorite, and that she and John had a lot of unresolved business.

"You're sure he won't, eat me, or whatever?" Adam muttered under his breath. They had told Adam that John was some kind of zombie, rather than go into detail about Revenants. Unsurprisingly the library had not contained much on Revenants, or even proper vampirism (Dean had laughed at about half the books, and declared them utter bullshit), though it wasn't like Sam had expected to do much work anyway.

From the look Dean had given him once they'd escaped Deana and Adam's argument Sam had expected to have to spend his time in the library fending off Dean's advances.

It wasn't that he didn't like Dean. Or being screwed by Dean, or screwing Dean, he just, felt confused. Dean was a vampire. Sam had been told vampires were evil, even before he'd found out about the family business. It was weird, adjusting to it.

And Dean just kept pushing him, always pawing at him and cuddling and he had John to deal with and now Adam and-

"Are you listening to me?" Adam asked furiously.

"No." Sam blushed. "Er yes, sort of, he won't eat you I mean. Probably." he continued. "I have to go and hide now," he trailed off, leaving Adam furious in the bushes. It was the second night they'd done this and still nothing.

"Blushing Sammy," Dean whispered in his ear, his cold breath ticking. He trailed a finger down along Sam's jawline where the cut had just finished healing over. In another day or so Sam would be able to get rid of the stubble-beard he'd been stuck with.

He shifted away from Dean. "Quiet." he muttered back. "Work."

He could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes before he moved silently away.

An hour later and he felt guilty. He'd been ignoring Dean in bed for weeks now. Sure he'd been letting Dean fuck him, but he hadn't reciprocated and he KNEW Dean was getting frustrated and-

"He's coming," Dean said in an undertone. He'd appeared at Sam's side suddenly, so fast Sam hadn't noticed. "Get ready."

Sam nodded slightly, his grasp on his gun tightening.

There was a rustling in the bushes nearby and-

Nothing.

Sam waited for a few tense moment, his gun trained on the spot. If it was John he was ready.

"You sure?" He murmured after a few minutes of nothing.

"Yes." Dean hissed. "Trust me." he sounded annoyed.

Sam was about to retort angrily when John burst from the bushes latching onto Deana's left side. His elongated nails dug into her side like knifes, blood spurting out over her side and her hand twitched reflexively, a shot going off in the dark. Sam jumped in her direction in synch with Dean. He raised his gun and aimed.

At this range he was sure he could take the shot. Even with Deana in the way he was sure he had it-

A second gunshot went off in the night air and Sam found himself shoved against a tree, Dean standing in front of him, aiming.

"Dean!" Sam cried, outraged. He may not have been any good at hand-to-hand (or knife, or machete, or any other type you cared to name) fighting but he could SHOOT at least.

The third shot that went off hit John in the neck and he began to spasm, his nails pulling Deana to the ground after him.

Dean started forward, grabbing Deana's unencumbered arm and began pulling her away from John's nails. John made gasping noises and stilled, his body changing color as the blood began to retreat from his extremities and he began to mummify.

"Come on." Dean said, letting out a long breath. "We'd better go untie Adam."

"Can't we leave him?" Deana asked, picking herself up off the ground.

Sam got up from where he was sprawled and picked up his gun. Dean had pushed him. Dean had stopped him from taking the shot. Dean had PUSHED him out of the way like a child and-

"Go and untie him will you Sam?" Deana asked, cutting into his thoughts. Sam swung his rifle over his shoulder and stalked off towards Adam, a tight knot forming in his throat.

He cut through the rope instead of untying it, leaving Adam to get up on his own. They returned together to look at the stilled body of their father lying on the ground. He barely looked human.

"Well, we'd better get him back to the house." Deana said finally. "You, get the rope from the truck." she said, jerking her head at Adam and Sam. "We need to tie him up and take him home."

Sam trailed after Adam in the direction of the truck, parked nearby. As he walked away he heard Deana clap Dean on the shoulder and say; "Good shooting Dean."

Sam slammed the door to his room once through it and threw his dirty jacket on the floor. Dean came quietly through the door after him.

"What the fucking HELL Dean!" Sam asked furiously. "What the HELL was that?"

"Sa-" Dean started, picking up Sam's jacket and placing it on the back of the chair.

"I'll tell you what that was!" Sam interrupted. "That was you, YOU deciding I can't hit a target 3 fucking feet away! That was YOU treating me like some kid! What the fucking hell is wrong with you?"

"Well-" Dean started again.

"So you suppose because you're a fucking v-" Sam continued, his voice raising upwards to almost-a shout.

"Because of your, 'special abilities'" he continued in a low hiss, making quotation marks around the words 'special abilities' in the air. "You're the only one who gets to deal with things! Well guess what Dean! I'm not a child! I KNOW hot to shoot a fucking GUN! And I don't need you watching over me like some sort of errant child!"

He flung himself onto the bed and sat at the edge, bunching a pillow together like it had personally wronged him.

Sam was furious. A red flush having ridden up his cheeks, accenting his eyes, the pupils blown huge so they looked straight black.

"Sam I didn't think you'd be able to take the shot!" Dean exclaimed, trying to explain. "You couldn't hit her at that close a range, and you do NOT want to know what that stuff does to huma-"

"COULDN'T TAKE THE SHOT?" Sam shouted, getting up and stepping into Dean's space, using his height as an intimidating factor. "I've been shooting since I was six Dean! I made my first sawn-off when I was 10!"

"But no! You can't trust me! Because I'm human and YOU'RE a bloody-"

Dean clapped a hand over Sam's mouth, "Shut up you idiot!" He hissed, pushing Sam against the closest wall. Sam fought back, shoving his knee between Dean's legs, aiming for the muscles in the upper thigh. Dean twisted sideways and used his own knee to bash Sam's in the small space. Sam was going to have bruises in the morning.

"Do you want them to hear?" He asked, his hand still over Sam's mouth. God his lips felt so soft against Dean's palm, and his bangs were falling into his eyes and-

Sam bit Dean's palm hard. Dean cursed and withdrew, practically falling away from Sam. They stared at each other in horror.

Sam was the first to recover.

"Get out Dean." he choked out, a catch in his voice clear as day.

Dean gaped at Sam for a moment.

"Fine." he said in a small voice and slung his bag up onto his shoulder, heading out the door to the Impala.

End Chapter

No they aren't broken up! Promise! John will be killed in the next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7: John Finally Gets Killed

**Chapter 7: John Finally Gets Killed**

A/N

And I planned to have him dead in what, ch. 16 of Tantalus? Bad me, very bad me... But for real this time, John is DEAD. Forever. Probably. Reviews will keep him there.

Sam woke up early and rolled over on the bed. He reached out a hand to where-

Sam rolled back onto his side of the bed, a sick feeling curling in the depths of his stomach.

Sam burst into the kitchen, trying to appear as if he hadn't rushed there, hoping Dean hadn't left.

Deana peered up at him from where she was making oatmeal.

"What have I told you boy about getting dressed in the morning for breakfast?" she asked, her brow wrinkling expectantly. "Go and get dressed."

Sam gave a longing look to the window that Deana followed.

"He's still here." she said in answer. "And he'll still be here while we eat breakfast. Now you go and get dressed so we can have a little talk."

Sam winced.

When he returned, dressed, there was oatmeal and coffee waiting.

"Sit." Deana said, and pointed.

Sam sat.

"So I heard about your little fight last night." she said, spooning oatmeal into a bowl for him and handing it across the table to him. Sam took the bowl silently and sprinkled a bit of brown sugar onto it.

"You know, good relationships do not work if one person is always in charge, all the time." she said while he ate. "You need to compromise, learn to trust each other, and most importantly, not run around screaming at each other at 4 o'clock in the morning."

Sam nodded, still eating. If he kept eating, maybe he wouldn't have to answer any hard questions. He couldn't let anything slip; he might be pissed at Dean, but setting his family on him? No way.

"Deana, it's just," Sam bowed his head over his oatmeal. He wished he had putmore sugar on it. Never mind gay, vampire? His family would kill him. Or more likely Dean, if they knew.

"It's just confusing at first." Deana inserted, taking a sip. Sam looked up to see her staring back at him, her eyebrows raised. "And I am not having you mope around here waiting for something to happen."

Sam opened his mouth to protest. He couldn't go with Dean and if he couldn't stay here, where was he supposed to go?

"You're happier with him." Deana said firmly. "Even if you're fighting all the time."

Sam gaped at her.

"Do you remember how miserable you were on your first hunt with Samuel? Then the next one with Uncle Cameron?" Deana prompted. "Whatever you're doing with him, it's good for you."

"So you get back to your room and pack your bags and if I don't see your ass leaving with him I'm sending the cousins after you with shotguns," she finished, attempting to interject a bit of humor into it.

Sam smiled weakly at the last bit. "Alright." he said quietly, getting up from the table and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher. "Thanks." he said even more quietly and left.

Sam stood outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, his bag on his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like a pub.

Dean awoke slowly inside the Impala, uncomfortably squished in the front seat. He'd slept without a blanket last night because the only one left smelled like Sam.

He could smell Sam now too. Standing outside the kitchen. He wondered if he was going to be told to leave the property. Or chased off and hunted.

There was no point in delaying it.

Dean stretching as far as he could, his spine cracking and got out of the Impala.

"There's breakfast in the kitchen if you want it." Sam stated and waited for Dean to follow him into the kitchen.

Adam was sitting at the table looking rumpled and sleepy. Deana placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Dean as he sat down. He hated oatmeal, so he dumped brown sugar on it until she gave him a disapproving look. He snuck another spoonful when her back a turned and Adam gave him a disgusted look.

"So what are we going to do with John now that he's locked down?" Dean asked finally.

"We're going to get him over his hang-over, or whatever drugs he's been put on." Adam replied indignantly. Apparently he was still stuck on the 'you're all idiots; there's no supernatural' thing.

Deana gave him a stern look. "We are going to see what exactly is wrong with him, and do whatever is necessary." she correct.

Adam snorted into his bowl of oatmeal and Deana gave him a sharp look.

Sam grabbed a cup of coffee and at down next to Dean. It was going to be a LONG morning.

"So are we clear on what exactly is going to happen here?" Deana asked sharply.

Sam and Dean nodded in unison and after pouting futilely, Adam followed suit.

"Fine." he snapped. "But I want a gun."

"You're not getting a gun," Sam retorted. "Guns aren't useful when we're going in. Kurt and Matthew are going to be on the outside with remote controlled guns in case something happens. We don't want John getting a hold of one."

"Then I want a knife. Or something!" Adam protested stubbornly.

"Fine." Dean said, cutting Sam off before he could begin again with Adam. That was another similarity between the two; they were both stubborn as mules. Possibly more.

"You can have a machete. I'm taking one too Sam, so sh- so no complaining." Dean finished.

They started towards the basement where John had been left the night before. It was originally been a root cellar, but had been modified into a containment area with panic room. The walls were reinforced steel with salt and Nephilim runes, as well as witches' spells, all able to be activated with a single word. No one was getting in or out easily.

John was lying in a puddle of rotting flesh on the floor. He smelled the same as Lucretia had; blood and piss and dried rot, all mixed together to create a truly horrifying smell.

Despite the awful smell Dean felt a stab of relief; Adam couldn't POSSIBLY argue that John was still human, not when he was practically liquid.

John raised an arm off the floor, his shackles clinking and rubbing the loosing skin off of his body to show bone. The skin and fat could easily just slough off of him now; it was just vampirism holding him together, and there wasn't that much left of that, not in a new Revenant.

Adam dropped to his knees ignoring the smell. "Dad," he gasped, his eyes watering.

John reached the hand closer to him, the muscles moving under the skin in a sick parody of life to stroke Adam's cheek.

He gave a slight rattle, his chest falling in and out. John coughed and black rot came up from his lungs, spattering across his chest and running down onto the floor. Vampires didn't need to breath; Revenants couldn't.

Adam was crying now, pressing in closer to the animated rotting mess that was his father. It was as bad as the zombies people had started bringing back in London during the 1800's. They'd pay a medium to bring back their dead husband, or child, or dog, and then try and cuddle up to the zombie and then end up eaten.

"Adam, you can see for yourself, he's-" Deana started before Adam cut her off, his eyes bright with tears.

"He's not!" he wept. "He's not! We can FIX him!"

He bent back down to his father, who had gone limp, the rotting smell increasing as his decomposition sped up. If he didn't get blood within a few hours he'd start to die permanently. This was very bad.

"We should give him a while," Sam said, grimacing.

Dean shot a look at Deana who nodded, and Dean followed Sam out of the cell.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets, occasionally peeking through the window. Adam had dropped to his knees and was holding onto John's shoulders, trying to rouse him.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" Dean asked hesitantly. This entire thing had been worse than the beginning. All they were doing was fighting and he didn't want to set Sam off again.

Sam shook his head. "He's already gone."

Adam was crying over John now, tears dripping down his nose onto John's chest and neck.

Dean felt very uncomfortable, worse than before in the laundry room when Sam had been crying. He reached out to grab Sam's shoulder.

"Um, you, er," he started uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say here? That John cared about Sam? John chasing Adam down first had disproven that lie. Was he supposed to say something about going to a better place?

Sam shook his bangs out of his face and gave Dean a wry grin. "I know." he said as though he could read Dean's thoughts. "Better late than never."

Adam was making little choked noises over John when they re-entered. Deana looked somewhere between disgusted and morose.

Sam knelt down by John's prone form. "Hey, dad," he said softly, squeezing in between Adam. "Er, I know we haven't gotten along that well, but, it, um,"

Adam turned to Sam, his blue eyes puffy and red. Mucus was gushing from his nose.

"Get away from him." he cried, shoving at Sam's shoulder. "You freak! If it hadn't been for you none of this would've happened!"

A knot formed in Sam's throat. "My fault?" he asked, his voice cracking. "My fault! It's HUNTING, people die!"

"Yeah and I notice YOU'RE not dead!" Adam screamed back. "I wish you had, I wish it were YOU dying instead of him, and I bet he does too!"

Sam stared in shock at Adam.

"You know he left your mother before you were born right?" Adam asked furiously. "He didn't want you or your whore of a mother!"

"Why do you think I'm older huh?" Adam taunted. "You're just a mistake he wished never had happened. I bet he never took time out of hunting for YOU."

Deana cleared her throat. "Now Adam, that's not how it happened-"

Dean watched a flush creep up Sam's face. It was sort of nice to see Sam getting angry with someone who wasn't him.

"Didn't want me?" Sam asked, huffing angrily through his nose. "Then why did he come BACK? Why did you marry MY mother and not yours?"

"Probably because your mother was just some bar-slut." he continued, hate flavoring his voice. "After all, you're the second family; I bet you don't even know about his brother's family at all."

Adam's mouth opened to answer and John stirred under him, his eyes flicking open, his gaze travelling from one boy to the next.

"See what you've done?" Adam retorted furiously, though quietly. "You're making him worse!"

"He's dead already Adam," Sam said quietly, shaking his head. Anyone with half a brain could see the only thing keeping their father alive was the vampirism blood, and based on the amount hemorrhaging out onto the floor that wouldn't last long.

He turned to look over his shoulder at Dean. "Dean," he said, his voice pleading, "Isn't there something?"

Dean grimaced and shook his head and Sam turned back to John.

John's right hand had risen up towards Adam, his eyes fixed and his breath rattling in his chest.

"Daddy," Adam whispered quietly, grasping his father's hand in his own. Sam leaned away. Dean stepped in behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, sliding it slowly up and down.

John's head came up, ever so slowly, and his lips moved.

"What is it Daddy?" Adam asked, his voice choked with emotion.

John leaned closer and lunged at Adam, his teeth coming together in an audible click. Several teeth broke off and fell to the floor. Adam fell heavily back against Deana who was holding onto the back of his collar.

John's eyes fixed on Adam, his nails grinding into the cell floor and tearing up bits of the cement. Dean grabbed Sam by his collar, spinning him back against the wall behind him so Dean was closer to John. Getting a bite from a Revenant wouldn't hurt Dean half as much as it would hurt Sammy.

"Sam, give me your machete," Dean said, his eyes fixed on John. Given the way Deana was looking at him he knew he couldn't afford to be caught.

Adam got to his feet slowly, watching John writhing on the floor, tugging at his chains.

He stepped forward, brushing off Deana's concerned hand. "Come on Dad, wake up, you don't want to do this, we can get you to a hospital, it'll be fine," he said, his voice more pleading than reassuring.

The chain on the right side snapped, John's hand grasping Adam's belt and pulling him down to the ground. John's mouth was like the maw of a kraken, bloody teeth curving in the wrong direction, so many they seemed to move of their own accord.

Adam reached frantically for his machete, haphazardly pulling it from his belt and taking a wild swing at John's head.

The blade met John's sagging, rotting neck and bit into it like butter. Black blood sprayed across the floor in a torrent. The lower half of Adam's face was spotted with little flecks of black like the mockery of a child pretending to be a man.

He stumbled backwards from John's corpse, still jerking on the floor, and they stared in horror. There was Adam, holding a bloody machete over his father's body. John's head rolled on the floor, coming to rest at Adam's feet, his eyes still open and bloodshot, staring at Dean.

Deana was sitting in her room alone. Adam and Sam were screaming at each other in the kitchen, while Dean had gone out to drink.

There had been so many deaths in the family. First there was Rachel's husband Arthur last year, and then little Maxie a few months later. Samuel had died with Andrew back on the trail of the vampire coven. Mary had died a few years after Sam's birth on a hunt, and now John was dead too.

She may have hated the man at first but he had been one of the few things left of her daughter. Even Samuel had warmed up to John after he'd come back after Mary's miscarriage. Then Sammy had turned up and things had been better. John and Mary were off on hunts, and she and Samuel had a cute little boy to take care of.

She remembered Samuel teaching Sammy how to shoot a gun for the first time. He'd been about six and still chubby and cute, and when he'd mentioned how Andrew and the others were learning how to shoot from their father's, Samuel had taken him out back and taught him how.

He'd taught Sam how to clean the weapons, taking the father role John wasn't around for up like a natural. They hadn't had any sons of their own, but Samuel had proven to be just as good a father to Sammy as he had been to Mary, Rachel and Lea.

And now he was dead and it was just her left. In the years since she'd married him she hadn't once regretting leaving her Nephilim contacts and friends behind to marry a somewhat normal man, but now she did. Not the marrying him part, but the lying. She hadn't told him about her own past, instead allowing him to simply assume she was one of the few humans who hunted monsters. She hadn't taught him about the runes Nephilim could use, nor had she told him when Leah had proven to have the Sight.

And now he was dead and she couldn't tell him at all.

Deana twisted the bit of blanket she'd been folding in her hands. There hadn't even been a body to bring back. A single tear slid down her nose onto the bed.

"You're an idiot!" Sam shouted back through the kitchen door at his half-brother. "That has nothing to do with anything!"

He stormed away from the house towards the Impala where Dean was waiting.

"Shoulda come drinking with me," Dean said lightly. He was still slightly tipsy from the rush of the blood.

Sam huffed angrily through his nose. "He is just SUCH an _idiot_." he said vehemently.

"Uh huh," Dean replied non-committal, sliding into the Impala. Sam threw his bag in the backseat before climbing into the front, still muttering under his breath.

Dean gave him an amused look out of the corner of his eye while Sam glared at the silhouette in the window.

They drove down the road away from the Campbell ranch silently. Gravel crunched under the wheels of the Impala.

"We good?" Dean asked after a while, his eyes flicking from the road to Sam's long form, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah." Sam said, huffing to move his bangs out of his face. He smiled at Dean. "We're good."

End Chapter


	8. Chapter 8: Dean Gets Pie

**Chapter 8: Back On The Road: Trust and Naughty Deeds**

Dean Gets Pie

Warning: This Chapter is VERY dirty. Apologies for the delay; school/exams and sheer laziness. Maybe Cas shall spank me (looks hopefully upwards).

Also, in the original Oediopus, Oediopus slept with his mother and killed his father. Adam's mother (and Sam's mother) are both dead but...

Dean lay on top of Sam on their bed, kissing him lazily. It had been a week since they'd left the Campbell house and gotten back to normal. Or rather, they hadn't had any recent fights other than over who got the last pancake, and nothing more sinister than a squirrel had attacked them.

He reached down to grasp Sam's shaft beneath his boxers and slowly began to work it. Sam parted his legs, shifting up to allow Dean better access and began to push his boxers down. Once they were off, Sam parted his legs further, lining Dean up with his hole.

Dean sighed in frustration and rolled off of Sam. "Do I ALWAYS have to top now Sammy?" he asked in annoyance. It had been almost a month since Sam had found out he was a vampire and Sam was STILL unwilling to top for him, preferring to play sub in bed. It was getting very tiresome. And boring.

He'd been unwilling to bring it up while they were dealing with John, and later when they'd FINALLY stopped fighting, but enough was enough.

Sam rolled onto his side, ducking his reddened face down under his bangs.

"Come on Sammy," Dean said. "Last time I checked you'd barely gotten used to bottoming at all, and now you're stuck on it?" he asked rhetorically.

"No." Sam replied, his voice low.

"Then what?" Dean asked in frustration.

"I'm just, I don't know what to do." Sam replied miserably.

Dean stared at him in amazement. "You don't know what to do?" he asked incredulously. "You, the guy who screwed me three ways from Sunday on our second date don't know what to do? Have you been taking stupid pills for breakfast Sammy, because that guy DEFINITELY knew what to do." he smirked in remembrance.

"No, I mean, I don't know what to do with you as a vampire." Sam said. "I mean, you're..." he trailed off and Dean started to get it.

"You could rip my head off like a dandelion," he finished. "Isn't it sort of normal for me to be taking the sub role here?"

Dean chuckled. "Trust me Sammy, this is SO not a normal relationship, and even if it were, I doubt we'd be playing by the rules then either."

He lay back down beside Sam, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him up close.. "How about this Sammy," he said, "We'll just cuddle for now, and you can touch me anywhere you want, anyway you want, and I'll reciprocate, and nothing more okay?" he asked.

Sam nodded gingerly. "Anyway," he asked, his voice rough.

"Anyway," Dean replied softly, his breath blowing across Sam's lips as Sam bent closer for a kiss.

Sam brought a hand up gingerly to pet Dean's side, tracing the delicate pads of his fingers along his ribcage carefully, his tongue continuing to plunder Dean's mouth.

Dean's hand found Sam's ribs and began moving along them, tickling him at points.

"Cheating," Sam gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Nuh uh," Dean replied, licking along the outsides of Sam's mouth. "Said I'd follow your touch, not your how," he replied, tickling further.

Sam squirmed, his hand involuntarily slipping lower to grasp Dean's ass.

"This isn't going to work," Sam panted, withdrawing and sliding away from Dean on the bed.

Dean gave a frustrated sigh.

"I'm tempted to withhold sex Sammy," he said, trying to inject some humor into the situation. He wouldn't withhold sex. He couldn't withhold sex. Withholding sex was just a myth, perpetuated by teenaged girls and housewives to manipulate people, it didn't really happen right?

Sam groaned and gave Dean a sarcastic look. "Right." he said. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Dean nodded in response.

"Why do you WANT me topping anyway?" Sam asked, shifting to sit on the side of the bed, his back to Dean who was still too lazy to get out of bed. "I can't be half as good as you are." He ran his hand through his hair, shooting Dean a look over his shoulder.

Dean laughed and rolled over to sit beside Sam.

"How about this for a reason," Dean asked, leaning over and slipping a hand into Sam's boxers. "I like you," he purred, capturing Sam's mouth with his own. "I like touching you." Sam gasped. "I like even better when you" he stopped to punctuate it with a slight nip, "Can touch me back,"

"When you WANT to touch me back" he crooned. "When you're moaning and gasping my name, and pounding into me like there's no tomorrow," Dean licked a stripe along Sam's neck, earning another gasp. "I like feeling you inside me, coming apart and it's just me around you to hold onto the bits." He sucked Sam's earlobe into his mouth, waiting for a moment before he began drawing his vampiric teeth along it.

Sam gave a low chuckle in the back of his throat and pushed back against Dean until he was lying on top. His pupils were blown wide, leaving just a thin rim of hazel. His mouth met Dean's and his tongue slipped inside, slowly painting a trail inside Dean's mouth.

Sam reached a tentative hand down past Dean's waist, and grasped Dean's ass before slipping lower. Dean felt Sam's finger slowly rub against the inside wall and crawl ever-so-slowly up inside him. He shifted his hips, moving to push further and felt Sam withdraw.

Sam lifted his head off the pillow to look at him, his bangs sticky-sweaty. "Slower Dean," he breathed, a hot whisper against Dean's skin.

"Nu, uh," Dean murmured back, mouthing along Sam's jawline (Sadly the cut had faded so he couldn't even lick at it anymore).

"Faster," The last words came out as a slurr as Sam pressed two fingers inwards and crooked them, one after the other at jus the right spot.

"Yess," Dean hissed, and licked along Sam's jaw in memory of the cut. Or had it been on the other side?

Sam chuckled and shifted lower, his eyes meeting Dean's. "Sure?" he asked.

Dean restrained himself from rolling his eyes and settled for trapping Sam's mouth with his own. Maybe that would shut him up.

Sam pushed in slowly, his lips still pressed against Dean's. He settled for a moment and then began to move, starting with an inch or so and moving back further with each stroke.

Dean broke the kiss to gasp. He'd almost forgotten how good Sam was at this. He'd have to find out how he-

Dean broke off the train of thought and the kiss to gasp. It was perfect. Right there. Finally. Two, three, however many weeks had almost been worth it.

"You okay?" Sam asked, annoyingly stopping. Dean forced down a growl of irritation.

"Yes." he insisted firmly, jerking his hips up hard. Sam smirked at the irritating tone and started again, twisting his upper body to rub his abs along Dean's erect cock trapped between them.

Dean grasped Sam's shoulders, kissing along his throat, little bites following. He latched onto Sam's collarbone and sucked at the base until Sam moaned. Dean broke off sucking and licked back up to catch Sam's lips, swollen and red.

"Dean, I'm," Sam started and Dean quickly moved his hands to Sam's lower back, pulling him closer when he came.

Dean came a moment later anticlimatically and Sam's cock slipped out of him.

Sam rolled off of Dean, lying on his back with his arms spread out like a kid making a snow-angel.

"I'd missed that," Sam said in a dreamy voice.

"I should've made you beg for it," Dean replied, slapping a hand down onto Sam's sticky chest. "Shower next." he said firmly, dragging on Sam's for arm to pull him out of bed.

End Chapter


	9. Chapter 9: Family Members

**Chapter 9: Adam Does The Nasty: Nasty Things From the Past**

A/N: Jo's line is stolen from that episode, the one where she hits on Dean when he's moping 'cause his father is dead and they'll never be able to reconcile about Dean and Sam's relationship, you know the one.

As for why she's there at all, basically Ellen is John's sister, and so Jo is his niece. Via the police in that area I.D-ing John (from his crazy antics), they contacted his living biological family.

And now, Vlad is back, causing more trouble than ever, and someone else from Dean's past is back.

Adam Chandler sat at a bar, drowning his misery in a beer. Or three. And there had been that purple shot-thing from that cougar, well, it had been a decent starter for the evening.

A young blond sat down next to him. "You know, most guys come through that door, they think they can get in my pants with some pizza, a six pack and a side one of Zeppelin four."

"Does that-" Adam started, and then stopped. He wasn't about to screw himself out of getting screwed. "Er, jerks."

"Yeah,"

"So," Adam said, "What brings you here?"

The girl shrugged. "My mom's brother's on some sort of bender, I'm supposed to do stuff with the police. It's taken all the fun out of my road trip."

"That sucks. I'm Adam by the way." He held out a hand, sizing the girl up. Small, but with perky breasts, a decent enough face, not bad.

"Jo." she replied, taking his hand and leaning closer. "Want to get out of here?"

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Vlad was hiding in a dirty warehouse. There was a spider crawling down his back. After the incident with the Hunters, it had gotten back to the rest of the vampires, who were in the process of hunting Vlad's little coven of Mongrels down and slaughtering them like pigs in autumn.

The rules were very clear on what vampires were and were not allowed to do, and creating armies wasn't. So Vlad had run, leaving the Mongrels to be killed by some of the Council's best. He'd spent days hiding in sewers, eating the maintenance staff who came down. Sadly there were no alligators in the sewers to drain.

He'd thought he was free a few days ago, having outrun those left. Then he'd crawled up and broken in through the basement of a family to get a decent meal to find himself still under surveillance. He'd taken a chance and exsanguinated the family anyway, putting them through the blender and various other under-used kitchen appliances (juicer, etc.) before dumping the remains into the sewer and going to take a shower.

The vampire had been waiting for him when he got out. He'd had been at least a thousand years old, enough to make Vlad want to run and hide. He'd assumed he was done for then, about to become the gourmet meal of an Elder, but instead the vampire wanted information.

It had been the same information Vlad had sold previously about Dean, as well as the information about whom he'd sold it too. The vampire had seemed very interested in who was tracking Dean.

He'd even told the vampire about Monica and her little friends, Betsie and, something who had been tracking Dean for him. He hated being unable to control himself. All one of the higher vampires had to do was ask and the words just poured out, like water from a fountain.

The vampire had left then, with a faint sneer crossing his features. Clearly he thought Vlad barely higher than a human.

Vlad had fled through the sewers again, seething with anger and shaking in fear that the vampire would decide to kill him after all. He promised himself that it wouldn't happen again.

When he'd returned to the surface, somewhere east of where he'd left his coven and cold, he'd found that the trail had gone cold. So he'd begun again, contacting some old friends of his to find out what he'd missed.

Dean's whereabouts were common knowledge, having holed up with his precious little Hunter. Apparently there'd been an incident with a Revenant (as if they even existed anymore!), and then something about one of the Hunter's becoming a vampire. All of it was a next-to-useless unsubstantiated rumor, except the fact that Dean and his idiot boyfriend were periodically fighting and screwing.

Disgusting.

But he could get revenge on Dean for screwing things up. If Dean hadn't barged in, Vlad and his coven could've easily finished off the Hunters without anyone knowing, and after all, it wasn't illegal for them to defend themselves. It wasn't like they were Nephilim.

All he had to do was get more information on Dean, then sell it to the highest bidder. With luck, that would lead the other vampire back to Dean, and then he'd get what was coming to him.

That was why he was waiting in the warehouse. Dean and Sam had been spotted in motels in the area. Dean was sure to pop up in a bar for a drink. Vlad could even try killing Sam if Dean left him alone for long enough.

He stepped back, squishing the spider against his coat. It was going to be a long night.

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Jack the Ripper wiped the blood off of his hands with a scrap of cloth. The Mongrel he'd tortured had been one of the last remaining members of Vlad's coven, and so starved it was almost feral. It hadn't been necessary for him to torture it for information, but they weren't allowed to kill humans anymore since Marius had signed the Accords so he had to get his fun from somewhere.

He was in the process of hunting down Dean, as per his Sire's request. Dean had broken away from the vague coven relatively quickly, leaving him alone and annoyed just at the cusp of the 1800nth century. People had been congregating into large areas, yet still had no idea on how to deal with crime, so he'd made a name for himself carving up all sorts of people.

Now, after years of ignoring his Sire and his blood brothers they were going to hunt him down and make him listen to reason. Vampires on their own didn't last long. They needed alliances, covens, and resources to hide the bloody little mistakes.

If it were up to him, Dean's most recent acquisition would become yet another bloody little mess on the floor.

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Adam Chandler awoke with a pounding headache. Whatever he had done to deserve such a wretched thing he didn't know. Beside him was a blond, her hair covering her face. He thought her name was Jessica, or maybe Joanna? Something like that.

They'd gone back to her motel room and had sex. A lot of sex. He hadn't had that much fun since last Spring Break at school, screwing the Jackson twins.

He rolled out of bed and walked to the sink to grab a glass of water. Jo's wallet was sitting on the counter. He couldn't help himself. He'd screwed her after all? He should know more than that her name started with a J.

The wallet was old and worn, something he'd expect to be the possession of man like his father. Inside were a lot of receipts, a picture of her with an older woman, a picture of a cat in a lacy bonnet. After a few minutes of digging her found her driver's license. Jocasta Beth Harvelle, age 22, 5'4". Below was another picture, much older than the first. He fumbled the picture and dropped it on the floor.

Adam bent over to pick up the picture and glanced at the flowing script on the back. It read "Marvin Harvelle, Ellen Winchester and brother. 1986."

Stunned, he flipped the picture over. Sure enough, just like the one his mother had kept over the mantle, was his father's grinning face staring back at him. Black hair, straight nose, it was John Winchester.

A startled yelp came from his mouth and Jo moaned, shifting in bed. He looked back at her, his eyes wide in horror. It would be better if he left now. Better if no one EVER found out about this. He felt sick to his stomach. His own cousin.

He quickly pulled his clothes on; ignoring the mess left from the night before and grabbed his keys, heading out.

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Sam lay on the motel bed, his forearm draped over his face. Dean had left him behind while he went out to hunt. Another few days and they'd be back at home base. Dean was deliberately taking as long as he could to get there. Without John to hunt down, and without any immediate plans in order he had no idea if Sam was going to stay with him. He wanted Sam to stay with him.

Sam had been complaining about Dean biting humans, going for those at bars, and occasionally getting screwed for a while now. Dean knew Sam didn't want to be bitten, or so he said, but what else was he supposed to do? He'd kept it to licking at Sam's cuts and very light nips, nothing to draw blood to see if Sam liked it. He had, but he seemed to know what Dean doing, and always pulled away, shifting out of reach or finding another use for Dean's mouth.

It was getting very frustrating. At least Sam was topping again.

Maybe he could convince Sam to Change. Become a vampire, and just skip over most of the biting-Sam-as-a-human. But he didn't know entirely how that worked. He knew biting didn't work with normal vampires, and drinking their blood wasn't quite it either. He had a vague notion he should know what it was, but couldn't put his finger on it.

"Hey,"

Sam was awake. He rolled off to sit at the side of the bed and stretched. His shirt rode up to show just a few inches of his stomach.

Dean smiled softly, letting himself flop down onto his back. He could see Sam's vertebrae through his t-shirt.

"Good hunt?" Sam asked.

"Decent enough," Dean replied, reaching an arm out to wrap around Sam's side. "One of the blondes had legs for miles."

He could feel Sam pulling away now, his stomach muscles going hard. Dean traced a finger along the middle of Sam's stomach, pressing lightly at the base of his ribcage.

"You," Sam started angrily then bit his lip.

"Do you HAVE to screw them Dean?" he asked instead.

Dean chuckled. "But it's _fun_ Sammy," he said, shifting closer so he was curled up right next to Sam. He tugged at the hem of Sam's shirt and licked the side of his stomach. "Biting and sex is mind-blowing."

Sam stood up, leaving Dean lying on the bed on his side.

"No." he said firmly, tugging his hem back down over the sticky mark Dean had made on his side. "You're not biting me."

Dean groaned and flopped back on the bed. "Come on Sammy," he said in a wheedling tone. "It's fun,"

"No."

"Your choice." Dean replied in a sing-song tone of voice. He rolled to the other side of the bed and pulled one of the skin mags out of his duffle.

The bed made a creaking noise as Dean moved on the bed so he was sitting up at the headboard. A slightly ungainly squirm and his jeans were on the floor, followed by his underwear.

Sam made a choking noise somewhere nearby.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

Dean allowed himself one more look at Sam before the games begun. Sam's face was red and his mouth hung open ever so slightly. His eyes were fixed on Dean's half hard cock. Dean jerked the movement drawing a barely audible gasp from Sam and picked up the skin mag opening it randomly.

"Well if you're not in the mood I guess I'll have to finish myself off," he drawled with a smirk, wrapping one hand around his dick and beginning to jerk himself off.

Sam remained transfixed, rooted to the spot as though by magic. Dean could hear his heart speeding up even as he tried to figure out what Dean was doing.

"So you won't screw me unless I let you bite me?" Sam choked out incredulously, his throat dry.

Dean moaned in response.

"Dean-!" Sam started and Dean jerked his hips up, tilting his head to lock eyes with Sam. It was definitely working.

He squeezed, drawing pre-come out and smeared it the shaft, drawing Sam's gaze along it.

"You bastard," was all the warning he got before Sam launched himself onto the bed straddling him.

Sam grabbed Dean's hand away from his cock and licked it, his hazel eyes locked onto Dean's green ones. Dean smirked and tasted himself on Sam's tongue a moment later. Sam's tongue fucked into his mouth, his teeth clicking against Dean. One hand reached down between them to grasp Dean's neglected cock and jerk it off.

Tongues battled for dominance as Dean tried to break the kiss in search of something else. Sam rutted against Dean, his length pressed up hard against the zipper of his jeans. Sam let go of Dean's cock to press against his stomach, shoving him to stay down while he unzipped his jeans. Dean nipped at the air left where Sam's mouth had been.

Their eyes met, Sam shameful and angry, Dean smug.

Dean reached a hand down, helping Sam pull his jeans down over his thighs, his cock springing up to slap against his stomach. Sam grasped the arch between Dean and his collarbone, pushing him down again, his mouth following.

His hips jolted up in the air, his cock rubbing against Dean's. Dean's hand snaked around Sam's back, pulling him closer and arched upwards. He latched onto the side of Sam's neck, licking and sucking alternately.

Sam's thumb dug into his collarbone and he himself off of Dean.

"No Biting!" he hissed furiously, his bangs hanging over his sweaty face. Sam punctuated it by drawing a nail along the underside of Dean's dick, stopping to press the base of his thumb into Dean's taint.

Dean moaned and jerked upwards, coming as a white spurt between them. Sam came moments after, and collapsed onto Dean, his sweaty skin plastered to Dean.

Sam trembled in his arms afterwards, his neck tantalizingly close to Dean's mouth. All dean had to do was reach forward just a bit and bite down and-

Sam pushed himself half off of Dean with a squelching noise, the come between them forming a syrupy chain. He let himself fall back down onto Dean his pectoral pressed into Dean's mouth, a hard thump that would've taken the breath from Dean's lung if there had been any.

"No biting." Sam said firmly.

It might not have gone according to Dean's plans, but it had definitely been worth it.

End Ch.


	10. Chapter 10: Biting and Crossed Signals

**Chapter 10: ****Biting and Crossed Signals**

A/N: This was written the same night of the first chapter of Tantalus. Yeah. Bad me. I actually wrote this chapter the same night of the first chapter of Tantalus, and planned to have it up within 20 or so chapters. That didn't happen. But this does complete almost all of the pre-written stuff I had lurking on my computer for them.

Sam awoke later that night to feel cold arms around him, Dean's mouth attached to his earlobe, making obscene noises in his ear.

"Dean?" he asked muzzily, "Dean, I'm too tired; can't we do this in the morning?" he asked plaintively, moving away from Dean.

Dean's response was to dig his hands into Sam's chest and pull him back. Dean growled and let go of his earlobe to bite the cusp of his ear, "Mine," he purred, and Sam half turned to face him.

"Dean," Sam said, now able to see the vampire. Dean's pupils had expanded to hide most of his green eyes, leaving only a thin glowing band, and his fangs were down, large enough that they were biting into his lower lip even with his mouth open.

"Seriously Dean, get off," he said, despite his own growing erection and pushed at the vampire's chest with one hand.

That was a mistake. Dean grabbed the hand and brought it up to his mouth, nipping at the tips of each of Sam's fingers before working his way down to Sam's wrist where he found the large vein and started tonguing it.

"No," Sam said, turning his wrist to pull it away from Dean. "We've had this argument already, you are not-"

Dean's fangs sunk into his wrist in reply and Sam's heart speed up, pumping the blood out through the cut vein even faster.

Dean's eyes began to glow and he moaned, letting go of Sam's wrist for a moment to move closer, Sam going limp and falling back onto the pillows. Dean moved on top of him and licked the wrist wound closed, letting it fall back down onto the bed.

Sam began to move away, letting Dean slide off of him before Dean moved forward to latch onto his wrist again, pinning it up beside his head and slamming Sam's head back against the headboard.

Sam whimpered and Dean bite down hard, his hands massaging Sam's chest.

Dean bite harder, Sam beginning to lose consciousness until a bright flash of light appeared, and he released Sam suddenly, and fell off of him unconscious.

Dean awoke, slumped halfway off the bed bent at an awkward angle over Sam's legs.

It had been days since Dean had slept properly; he didn't really need to, and only did so for fun usually. It seemed odd that he would have fallen asleep on Sammy, especially in such an odd position, but he was willing to shrug it off.

Dean slid the rest of the way off of the bed and padded his way toward the bathroom, brushing his teeth from habit until Sam followed him in.

Dean reached his arms around Sam and leaned upwards to kiss him, cold minty toothpaste meeting morning breath and unwashed human.

"You smell awful Sammy, how can you sweat so much in bed next to me?" he asked, knowing his cold body had kept Sam awake more than once.

"You bit me Dean, I bled all over the place, and passed out" Sam replied, and Dean stiffened, pulling back to examine Sam's neck.

"Very funny," Dean said, noting the lack of marks. "Should I get a space heater to keep you from shivering?"

"You didn't bite my neck Dean," Sam tried again, and Dean smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, thinking of the veins in the upper thighs. Biting coupled with a blow-job? It'd be enough to make him sweat, never mind Sammy.

"No not there," Sam rolled his eyes, "You bit my wrist."

Dean frowned. "Why would I bite your wrist?" he asked. Biting someone's wrist was stupid. There might be a nice big vein there, but it was still pretty low on his list of 'favorite places to bite.'

"Besides, wouldn't I remember this?" he asked, pulling Sammy closer, "Biting your, wrist," he said, putting as much innuendo into the word as possible, still sure Sam was joking, though for what reason he wasn't sure.

"Look," Sam twisted one arm up to show Dean the puffy red marks on his wrist, the two holes surrounded by little scrapes and cuts. A sloppy bite if he'd ever seen one.

"Sammy," Dean started. "Did I do anything STRANGE before I bit you?" He asked. While he hadn't seen anyone following them, he wouldn't put it past someone like Vlad to be stupid enough to send some novice to bite Sammy. Even a Mongrel would be able to Coerce Sammy into doing something if it was strong enough. Though why the wrist, and why Dean hadn't noticed anything... none of it fit.

"No," Sam replied, his face searching, "But afterwards - well sort of in the middle really - you collapsed on the bed and just, twitched sort of, like you were having a seizure."

"Vampires don't have seizures Sammy," Dean stated. There was so much crap the Hunters had taught Sam about vampires; Sunlight, churches, crosses, blond girls wielding wooden stakes, what a load of shite.

"Well you did." Sam replied stubbornly. "There was this giant flash of light and you just, passed out. I had to pry your jaws off my wrist."

Dean shook his head. "Sammy, you know I wouldn't bite you, and if I did, there CERTAINLY wouldn't be flashes of light. That's not how it works."

"Then how do you explain this?" Sam exclaimed throwing one arm out, more than a little annoyed at Dean's patronizing.

Dean pulled him close and breathed in near his ear, blowing the air out once.

"You're being silly Sam; if you REALLY want me to bite you I will, but it's not liable to be nice," It was all very clear now. Why the bite was on the wrist, why Dean didn't remember any of it, why Sam was being so strange about it. Clearly Sam had bitten himself, trying to find a way to convince Dean to do it. He must've changed his mind after the mind-blowing sex from the evening before. Yay.

"What are you TALKING about?" Sam exclaimed. "I do NOT want you to bite me."

"Mhm," Dean replied, "Which is why you're going to the effort of biting yourself and trying to convince me I did it. As if I wouldn't remember if I had. Clearly you want to be bitten."

"I did NOT bite myself!" Sam exclaimed, pushing his shoulders against Dean's. "Why, that's just, utterly stupid!"

"I know, I won't hold it against you," Dean chuckled. "Now hold still, and relax, and it won't hurt a bit." he said, letting his fangs slide out to touch Sammy's skin and feeling him flush, his heart rate speeding up. First step biting, second step vampirism.

"Dean!" Sammy exclaimed, feeling Dean scrape his fangs lightly against his skin. "Dean stop, I don't want you to bite me!"

Dean sighed and released Sam, so the human could step back a few feet, his fangs retracting. "Then what Sammy?" he asked. "Why did you go to all this trouble of biting yourse-"

"I DID NOT BITE MYSELF!" Sam practically shouted and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine, then why did you go to all this trouble to make it look like SOMEONE had bitten you only to tell me I had?" Dean asked. "Do you want to bite ME Sammy?" his eyes searched Sam's face, "Because I'll let you, but there's no real point to it without the Change,"

Sam made no reply to this, his face exasperated.

"This is just silly Sam, just tell me what you want. I'm not a mind reader," Dean tried again.

"No, you've just your ever-so-useful mind-eraser powers, your Coercion, and your selective memory," Sam replied.

"That's what this is about?" Dean asked, swallowing hard. "I've said I'm sorry about a hundred times! I thought we were over that!"

"We are over that!" Sam replied. "This is about you biting me and APPARENTLY" Sam broke off to use little air-quotes around the word. "APPARENTLY not REMEMBERING any of it."

Dean shoved himself off the sink counter and leaned up into Sam's space. "And I'm telling YOU, that's NOT how it works! Besides, even if it DID work that way - which it DOESN'T! I'd REMEMBER IT you idiot!"

"Fine!" Sam replied, throwing his arms up in the air and walking back into their room, picking his clothes off the floor. "Fine, I give up! You're IMPOSSIBLE."

"Sam!" Dean called, following him out of the bathroom. "Sammy!"

Dean reached out to grab Sam's arm and pulled him around. "This is stupid, what other explanation could there be?" he pleaded, hoping the human would see sense. Sure, biting himself was silly, but it wasn't like stranger things hadn't been done. "You aren't sick are you?" he asked. Perhaps Sammy had caught something and hallucinated the entire episode, or dreamed it, the self-inflicted wound forgotten.

Sam jerked his arm out of Dean's grasp and he had to remind himself not to grab it back. Just because he was a vampire and his companion a human didn't mean he got to treat Sammy like a pet, not if he wanted this to last.

"No I am not sick," He snarled. "Go shower alone Dean," and began to stalk out of the room.

Dean started after him for a moment and felt the room go fuzzy around him. He grasped at the wall only to see it retreat away from him and he fell to his knees. "Sammy?" he breathed, and saw Sam turn around, his expression changing from anger to concern as he dropped the clothes to the floor and rushed to Dean.

Dean saw his lips move and felt Sammy shaking him and blurrily closed his eyes.

Sam pounded on the safe in the trunk of the Impala, the one that usually displayed the little blood-identification device and would open to reveal Dean's little safe of blood bags. He liked to keep a few with him, 'just in case' he always said, though Sam privately thought otherwise. He knew the way Dean had been looking at him and way he'd been bringing certain things up, making a point to explain all the little details of vampirism to him; clearly Dean wanted to change him.

He cursed and slammed his fist against the pad again. The machine made an irate chirp at him and the pad closed up, fluid leaking from it. Hopefully Dean wouldn't be too pissed off later. Why, why WHY hadn't Dean reprogrammed the system to let him in? Why hadn't he bothered? Sam glanced back at the motel where he'd left the still comatose vampire on the floor and glared at the Impala again.

He still didn't have any idea where he was; unless he felt like leaving Dean here and driving around to the nearest hospital to try and find some blood bags (he couldn't begin to imagine how he'd get those), there wasn't really any other option. He slammed the trunk angrily and walked back into the motel room.

The carpet beside Dean's head was compressed as Sam knelt beside him and he took the ever-present knife out of Dean's belt to hold shakily above his wrist. This or nothing he reminded himself and brought the knife down firmly, gasping as it drew a line across the already red bite marks from last night.

Red droplets covered Dean's lips and mouth, painting them a deep crimson before there was any response. First a slight twitch of his nostrils, then a brief moment where he seemed to inhale and then he pounced.

For the second time in 24 hours Sam felt his head slam back against the wall as Dean bit deeply into his wrist, pinning it up beside him.

Sam tried not to struggle. Dean had been right before; this wasn't how he'd expect a 500-year-old vampire to bite.

"Dean," he tried after a moment, "Dean, come on, let up," and he slowly reached his other hand around Dean's jaw to pressed down hard, feeling the joint begin to pop open slightly.

Dean growled in response, but let Sam push him off slowly, his eyes a luminous green.

Sam waited for a moment while the glowing dimmed and then released Dean's head to have him slump down into Sam's lap. Sam caught him and lifted his head up, hoping to see Dean's normal green eyes gazing up at him.

"Sammy?" Dean asked thickly. "What-?" he asked and fought to sit up on his own, finally coming to rest against Sam's chest, his head tucked under Sam's chin.

"You, passed out again," Sam replied. "Just when I was leaving you passed out."

"I remember that; we'd been arguing," Dean said, wincing slightly.

"I couldn't get into your safe, so I, cut open the bite marks again."

Dean groaned in response. "This is NOT how I wanted this to go," he said. "I wanted it to be fun, for both of us, not me passing out all over the place,"

Sam smirked at that. He knew Dean had been planning to bite him despite their discussion the evening before. If you could call sex a discussion. "Are you sick?" he asked in a half-patronizing voice.

"Ha ha," Dean replied. "No."

"Then..." Sam trailed off.

"I have no idea." Dean replied. "But I want breakfast, and then I'll make a few phone calls."

"No shower?" Sam asked.

"No shower." Dean said firmly. "I'm not risking collapsing on you again and maybe draining you, or you passing out from blood loss."

Sam nodded, "You're going to make me spend the day in bed aren't you?" he asked.

"Not all day," Dean replied. "But you're certainly going to eat something other than that disgusting rabbit-food you like."

"Dean..." Sam whined.

"No arguments Sammy-boy," Dean said, "I may be all messed up down here but I can still feel that heart pumping funny and your light-headedness."

"Typical," Sam said, "YOU pass out all over the place I get to spend all day in bed. Because THAT makes perfect sense."

"Shut up Sam," came the reply. "I'll either be fine or you'll be dinner as it is. At least if you're in bed and I DO bite you you'll be more liable to survive. A proper bite I mean."

Sam winced and sighed. "Fine."

Dean waited for a moment more before bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting, reaching for a

set of boxers on the floor. "Take this out to the safe and drip it on it." he said, passing the bloody boxers to Sam. "Get me the O+ if it's still good."

Sam took the boxers and grimaced. "It's sort of, leaking fluids." he said. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Dean glared at him. "You didn't hurt my baby did you?"

"No," Sam flushed. "But I kinda punched the safe. It wouldn't open."

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the wall into a sitting position. "Try it anyway. If not then we get to be creative."

Sam grimaced, guessing what 'creative' meant in this case, and went off to the Impala with the bloody boxers in hand.

End Chapter.

Yeah, Dean's REALLY patronizing here. LOL. It's because of Sam's demon-y powers. Er, the passing out I mean, not the patronizing. Not sure why Dean bit him to start with, may come up with some sort of thing later.. meh. Also, demon blood is NOT good for vampires.


	11. Chapter 11: Rerouted

A**/N: The Epic of Gilgamesh, the first epic story EVER written, and one of my fav.'s well, yeah... so I used him instead. Basically, at the end of it, Gilgamesh fails to get immortality from Utnapishtim (who gets renamed Noah by the christians with the Great Flood story), and gets told about a plant that will grant him youth for all his days if he can get it. Unfortunately, a goddess in the form of a snake (who he pissed off in previous adventures) eats the plant after he gets it, so he doesn't get to be immortal. I'm altering the end so he drinks from a Mortal Cup of Utnapishtim's and gets special powers... ha. Gilgamesh's story goes back ~4,000 years B.C.E, so straight ~6,000 years from now ish. And yes, I shall explain more of their history in later chapters.**

**Sorry it took me so long, hopefully someone's still reading this. **

Dean lay on the motel bed, his head on Sam's chest, drinking the last of the blood bags from the safe. It had taken a screwdriver for Sam to remove it from the trunk of the Impala, and then Dean had had to resort to lock-picking to open it.

His vampiric strength was gone, he felt tired, like he wented to sleep forever, and every move Sam made just reminded him that there was nice hot blood available. He nuzzled against the base of Sam's neck and licked.

Sam shook his head. "Nu uh Dean." he said. "You've already bitten me twice. And it sucked."

Dean chuckled at that. "I know, but you taste weird."

"Lucretia said that too." Sam replied. "She said I tasted sweet or something."

"Uh huh." Dean replied, tossing the bag onto the floor. Maybe he would bite the motel manager.

The man was a hamburger away from a heart attack anyway.

"It has to do with your grandmother. She's probably a Nephilim or something." He finished. He wasn't supposed to tell people that, was he? He couldn't remember. But if Sam was, then it didn't matter. And since if Sam knew, then he'd also know not to tell, and then since Dean knew and knew he wasn't supposed to tell then neither would tell the other and neither would know that the other knew. Unless Sam really didn't know.

"There are Nephilim?" Sam asked. "I thought they were ten feet tall and 'warriors of god,' or something." He chuckled at the last bit.

Dean rubbed his nose along Sam's clavicle. He could hear his heartbeat just a few inches away on the left side. Sam shoved Dean back down onto the bed, the glow from his eyes dimming.

"Down boy." Sam said.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Dean asked. "Having me all floppy and weak."

"You're not flop-" Sam started. "Tell me about Nephilim." he said instead. He could feel Dean's hard length pressed against his leg. Floppy indeed.

"They're the result of Gilgamesh drinking from the Mortal Cup," Dean said, a hand coming up to wave vaguely in the air. It was almost like he was drunk. "After he failed to get the plant for being youthful, Utnapishtim let him drink from the Mortal Cup, and so he and all of his descendants got special abilities to fight evil."

"Their blood is poisonous to the children of the night, and their toenail clippings ward off the fae. They heal faster, fight better, and they made us all sign the Accords about-" Dean continued and then stopped.

"But you know this already." he said, tilting his head up at Sam.

"Uh no, actually, I didn't." Sam replied. "So how can I be Nephilim? And seriously? Toenail clippings?"

Dean snuggled in closer to Sam, mouthing along the outline of his nipple under his shirt. "Yes. We should go and bite the motel manager."

"No." Sam replied.

"So is that why you're drunk?" he asked. "Since you think I'm ¼ Nephilim?"

"Mhm," Dean mumbled. "Something like that."

Sam bit his lip. It wasn't really fair of him to take advantage of Dean like this but...

"So is a Nephilim human, Dean?" he asked, petting Dean's head awkwardly. "Or something else."

A snore was the only answer he got.

The next morning dawned, the sun illuminating the forms of three men. One, fat and old, with a clip-on name tag that said "Manager: Arnold," was lying on the floor with a broken nose and a bite mark on his throat.

The other two men (who were far better specimens than the first) were lying in bed, the sheets partially soaked in blood.

"See, this is part of what I mean by sub," Sam started, getting off of the bed.

"Mhm?" Dean made a questioning noise.

"You're always pushing me to cuddle when I'm sick or hurt and you don't LISTEN when I say I'm fine, and then you cuddle more." Sam said in a rush.

Dean was digesting this when Sam continued. "Plus you're the one who's always initiating, you know, sex. So I feel like I'm supposed to be sub,"

Dean raised his head off of Sam's chest to look him in the eyes and Sam pushed his head back down. "You've gotten better at it since Deana's, but, it still kind of sucks."

"Plus, whenever YOU get hurt, you insist you're fine." he finished, jerking his head at the man on the floor.

Dean grimaced, sitting on the side of the bed. "He'll wake up fine Sammy." he said.

"That's not the point." Sam replied. "And I'm driving," he said, swiping the keys from the table before Dean could get them.

Dean decided not to argue the point, allowing himself to flop back down onto the bed.

Less than half an hour later they were on the road again, Dean buckled in next to Sam, a pillow under his head against the window.

Dark shadows encircled his eyes, so dark they almost looked like bruises. Stubble could be seen on his chin, and there was still an undertone of red to his skin where Sam hadn't managed to scrub off the blood.

He still felt guilty about calling the manager into the room for Dean to feed off of. But every time Dean had bitten him he'd just gotten worse, eventually curling away from Sam like he was poison.

And he still couldn't make sense of Dean's ramblings. Gilgamesh? Who in the hell was that? At least Nephilim was a familiar word, sort of. They were supposed to be giants, and protect humanity. He'd have almost thought it was another joke about his height, but it didn't seem like it.

Sam glanced over at Dean's still form. He wasn't even breathing. Sam had to keep reminding himself that Dean didn't need to. He just hoped Dean would wake up enough to fake being human when they reached the Campbell ranch. The idea of Dean getting killed by his family made him feel sick to his stomach, but he needed answers. He hated being unable to do anything to help Dean like this. Even worse, part of him felt it was his fault.

When Dean woke up again it was dusk, and they were parked outside of a nightclub. He stretched, hearing his bones creak like he was an old man. Nephilim blood. Bad stuff. It was sort of ironic that half their powers came from using the blood of the monsters they hunted, yet none of the monsters could stomach their blood.

As if any of them were exactly 'human' either.

"Didn't we see this a few days ago?" he asked, looking through the window to see the usual outskirts of a town. Long grass, trash from passing cars, and one of those giant grocery stores. "When we passed through the place with the awesome apple pie?"

Sam didn't answer, letting the car run before turning off the ignition.

"Are you lost Sam?" Dean asked, looking carefully over at Sam in the driver's seat. "'Cause you're going the wrong way."

Sam's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Nope." he replied. "We're going to see Deana, hash out this thing about 'Nephilim.'"

An impending sense of doom came upon Dean. "Hey Sammy, I was, sort of drunk, can't you let it go?" he asked, trying to make it seem like a drunk's ramblings.

"Nope." Sam replied, getting out of the car and slamming the door. Dean winced. His baby (the Impala) was not having a good day.

Dean got out after him and walked around the car, his head aching. It was too bright.

"Look Dean, we're not dealing with this now, but you," he punctuated it by jabbing his finger into Dean's chest. "You have got some explaining to do."

Dean groaned. "Can't we just forget this ever happened?" he pleaded.

Sam gave him a look.

Dean put his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Fine, fine."

He cast a glance towards the bar. "Does this mean I'm going, 'clubbing?'" he asked.

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed Dean's arm, tugging him towards the club.

Dean stumbled after Sam, still tired.

Inside the club music and strobe lights flashed in sync, making his head ache all the more. Dean stumbled, and Sam wrapped an arm around him, leading him toward one of the booths.

At the next booth there was a group of girls, all made up and tipsy from free drinks. They weren't drunk enough not to notice Dean sitting down though Sam noted. Their eyes slide over him like licks of fire over wood. Sam felt a quick burst of jealously, coupled with the fierce satisfaction that the most they'd get from Dean was a brief grope, and a few pints of blood lost.

"Though you didn't like when I got," Dean paused, thinking for a moment. "extras."

Sam grimaced. The red-head in a sparkly tube-top was fluttering her fingers at Dean already, her fake eyelashes lowered to brush her cheeks over a dirty smile.

"I don't." He replied, his voice low. "But you need, so..." he trailed off, jerking his head at the girl standing at their table. He leaned back, allowing her to capitalize on Dean. She leaned over their table, displaying her breasts to their best advantage.

"Wanna dance?" She asked Dean, her voice promising more.

Dean slide one more glance at Sam in askance. Sam jerked his head at the girl, his bangs flopping into his eyes to hide his face.

"Meet you later at the motel, 'kay ?" And with that, Dean slide out of the booth to follow the girl.

Jack watched the human tow Dean into the bar, stumbling like he was already drunk. He wondered if Dean was playing a game for the human, playing at being weak to get close. He could see why Dean was interested in the human.

Tall, with big hands and floppy brown hair, he looked like an overgrown puppy dog.

Dean left his human, following a red-headed meat-suit. Probably his next meal if Dean's tastes hadn't changed. Though the puppy-boy was new.

He waited until Dean had left the club with the girl, no doubt heading for a back alley before approaching the puppy-boy. He was sitting slumped down, as though he was trying to hide his size, and hadn't noticed any of the admiring looks being shot his way. The one girl who'd been brave enough to try he'd stuttered at until she'd left, awkward.

The leather didn't make a sound as Jack slide into the booth opposite the puppy-boy. He set his scotch down on the table between them.

"Having fun?" he asked, allowing himself to sprawl out comfortably on the seat.

The puppy-boy jerked, his eyes blown wide in shock for a second. "Um, no, er," he stuttered. "I mean yes, I uh, I'm kind of waiting for someone actually," he said, his eyes darting out into the crowd, looking for Dean before flickering back to Jack.

Jack smirked. Time to begin laying the eggs. Doubt didn't just pop up out of nowhere. You had to lay the eggs, and cultivate them, till they grew into maggots, crawling around someone's head and rotting their memories. Then to make them grow into flies to flutter around the puppy-boy's mind, get the wings to beat loud enough to drown out any logical thought.

"Doesn't seem like he's going to turn up," he replied, locking his dark eyes with Sam's hazel. "Why not let me buy you drink."

Puppy-boy had jerked at the sound of 'he.' It was almost funny, for someone like him to be involved with Dean at all. Last time Jack had checked 'blushing virgin' hadn't been on his list.

"Uh, no, I'm not drinking tonight," He said, dropping his gaze.

"Pity," Jack stated and threw back the scotch.

Dean was finished in the alley now. Moving toward the doors again. The puppy-boy might not know who he was, but Dean would certainly recognize him. And he certainly wouldn't like him talking to his puppy-boy.

"I'll leave you to it then," he said, standing up as though he were slightly tipsy. He leaned in over the puppy as he passed. "If you change your mind, I'm here all night," he breathed, making the puppy's hair rustle. The puppy-boy jerked back and he laughed slightly before walking away.

He could see Dean now on the dance floor, grinding up against brunette in a leopard-print dress. The puppy was looking at Dean with lust and yearning and jealousy, and something else, churning in his eyes like molten metal forming an alloy. He met the puppy's eyes, jerked his head at Dean, and smirked again. When the puppy looked up again he was gone.

End Chapter

**Reviewers shall get cookies! And yes, Sam being frustrated with Dean's whole "I can take care of you" thing is important.**


	12. Chapter 12: Deana's Story

**Deana's Story**

**A/N: Warning! I am liable to be VERY busy with school, and/or completely ditch this fic. Hopefully not, but just be warned. In the event that I do.. I'll try to post a giant one-shot ending or something. Note: The Department of Post-Mortem Communications is Terry Pratchett's... love him. I am not: Eric Kripke, Cassandra Claire, and/or Terry Pratchett. I'm also not the person who invented Clearando, though I forgot who it is... Mercedes Lackey? I am an icecream sandwich.**

**Also for Jo/Adam's dirty scene, yeah I can't write hetero at all. SadFace.**

A black Impala with two dents on the front bumper slide into the driveway of the Campbell ranch for what seemed like the millionth time. Dean came awake with a start, drooling against the window.

"Here already?" he asked and Sam jerked his head in reply. Sam hadn't said more than two words to him after he'd refused to tell Sam more about the Nephilim,

Apparently they were fighting again. Dean wasn't sure what was worse: when Sam lectured or when he brooded.

Sam cast him another unreadable brooding look and stepped out of the Impala.

"Hey, come on man, you know I could be wrong," Dean tried, attempting to throw him off track. Sam looked back at him, the light hitting his just below his eyes, turning his cheekbones into hollow caves.

"I'm sick of being lied to Dean." Sam hissed. "Don't even try that shit with me."

The door creaked when Dean stepped out.

Sam gave him another furious look and turned, walking towards the door, resolution written in every inch of his body.

Dean sighed, stuck his hands into his pockets and followed.

SDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSSDSDSD

Adam moved in over the bed towards Jo, his eyes dark with lust. His gaze blazed along her tanned, sweaty body. He was almost surprised when it didn't leave a line. He slide a hand along her skin and he could feel the sweat and grit from the morning's work sliding along under the sensitive pads of his fingers.

It felt so dirty; she was John's niece, he knew that now, but it felt so good, and with everything at the Campbell ranch the way it was it was nice to talk to someone who thought he wasn't an idiot. Someone who didn't automatically link with Sam's family as yet another of the 'crazy Campbells' as the locals thought.

Not that the Campbell's made it any easier on themselves. They treated the locals, and Adam for that matter, like a bunch of idiots who had no idea what they were doing. In a way, they were right; the average person didn't know how to put an angry spirit to rest or how to kill a vampire. But they also weren't revenge-obsessed weirdos living almost completely off the grid either.

His lips followed the path his fingers had traced, washing the imaginary line of dirt away in liquid fire.

Jo sighed and he stopped, letting his chin rest midway up her stomach.

"Further down sparky," Jo murmured, a giggle in her voice and he complied.

SDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSD

Sam opened the kitchen door without knocking, pushing open hard enough to slam against the wall beside it.

Deana looked up from her newspaper and cup of tea, an angry expression on her face.

"Did no one teach you how to knock boy?" she asked, her voice tart. Dean had taken the opportunity to call her on Sam's phone, unwilling to deal with getting the salt-and-holy-water treatment like last time.

"Yes Deana," Sam said, his voice sharp. "The same person who taught me not to lie to family."

Sam spun the nearest chair around and straddled it, leaning his arms over the back of it.

"So grandmother, have any little secrets you wanna tell me about?" He asked. "Anything about us that's 'special.'" He quoted the word 'special' in the air with his fingers.

Deana sighed and stood up, reaching for the kettle resting on the stove. She picked it up and filled it with water from the tap, her hands shaking ever so slightly.

"Sit down then," she said, gesturing at Dean. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out." She continued, looking back at Sam.

There was a moment of silence before Sam raised his eyebrows at her, his expression somewhere between pissed-off and expectant.

"Fine." She said. "I suppose you have a right to know, it's in your blood too after all." she paused and took a deep breath. "It all began when I was 18, on a hunt for vampires just after the Accords had been signed."

"I was young, just 18, and they were starting to send us out to start dealing with crime between vampires and humans." Deana started. "You see, about 40 years ago or so, there weren't any Accords. Nephilim and human Hunters hunted demons and vampires, and anything else that crossed our paths. Some of them even went out after the worse of the human killers, like the first Vlad the Impaler."

"There was more than one?" Dean muttered under his breath before Sam shushed him.

"Then, when I was 14, something happened. They didn't tell us how, and I don't know if they were deliberately holding back information or if they just didn't know themselves, but basically the demons got out."

"Normally, demons and the like are theorized to live on some sort of intangible plane, somewhere past where spirits are. You know how sometimes you can't see spirits, and they can't do much, but you know they're there?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.

"Well, demons live, or exist, or something, beyond that, and there are ways from where they are to where we are. Some books go on about the 7 dimensions of Hell, and say there are different parts, other's say it's a series of islands in an ocean of fire. Nobody had dealt with Necromancy for decades. They'd even renamed it the Department of Post-Mortem Communications to get better publicity."

Deana sighed and looked Sam square in the eyes, her expression wilted, like she was repressing a flinch.

"There were all sorts of important Gates the Nephilim used to use to get blood from the demons, it's one of the sources of our power you see,"

"Sources of power?" Sam asked, a confused, and half-angry expression on his face. "So what, you're witches?"

"No." Deana replied. "Nephilim are normal humans, mostly anyway. We tend to be faster, stronger, live longer – unless we get killed in battle-, and have a better ability to see the unknown. Almost all Nephilim are born able to see the fae and sense spirits and the like."

"In old tales it was said that we could do even more. But for some reason we started losing those powers." A dark look entered Deana's eyes. "So, over a thousand years ago we started using dragon's blood to paint symbols on our bodies to give us better strength, more endurance, make us better than we were."

"You've heard of St. George right?" Deana asked, "He's said to be the Nephilim who came up with the idea."

"But the dragons started running out."

"As you know, werewolves transfer their disease by biting or by birth, as do most shapeshifters, and vampires by blood transfer? Well, we started going after them too."

"But if you cut too deep with vampire blood on the sigil, or wear it too long, or too often, you contract the disease."

"So we started looking for a better way, and someone came up with the idea of using demons."

Dean snorted. Idiots. Sam kicked him under the table.

"You have to understand. Demons have two ways of getting into our world. They can come by a Gate, a portal created by witches or the like long ago and keep their own shape, or they can come as a bare bit of energy, a bit like a super-charged spirit. The ones who come as energy have to possess a person; they're really no different than anyone else. Some of them have hidden as lawyers and the like for decades before getting caught."

"But the ones who come through a Gate, they come as demons. The sort you see in old bibles, all fire and brimstone, or ice and hail. They are monsters, and it was said that it was because they were ravaging Earth that the Nephilim were born at all. Not a single one had been seen on Earth for over two thousand years when I was a kid."

"Then some idiots started thinking about using demon blood. So they started bringing up demons through the Gates. Oh sure, she waved her hand dismissively. "They brought the small ones up first, and they used hundreds of traps to make sure the demons couldn't get out, and for a while, it worked."

"You know the phrase 'pride comes before a fall?' well, that's what happened. The idiots in charge called up too big a demon, or maybe they got sloppy with the sigils, or maybe one of them was possessed and did it on purpose."

"Nobody's exactly sure." Deana stopped, trailing her finger around the rim of her teacup, drawing a faint humming coming from it.

"Well, somehow an army of the demons got through."

"Over 2000 Nephilim died getting them back, not to mention all the human Hunters."

Deana paused again and Sam twitched.

"And?" he asked finally. "Is this leading somewhere?"

Deana looked up and glared at him, tears in her eyes. "You behave yourself young man!" she said sharply. "You're not so old that I can't give you a whippin' if you misbehave!"

They glared at each other for a moment before Sam dropped his gaze and leaned back in his chair. He ran a hand over his face.

"I don't see what this has to do with you marrying grandpa Samuel." he said. "Or why you haven't told us any of this before."

"I'm getting to that." Deana replied. "It's a complicated situation you see. If it hadn't been for the Demon War, the Accords wouldn't have been signed, and I probably never would have met your grandfather."

"Now, I was at the battle wasn't I?" She asked rhetorically. "So quite a few of us died during the battle, yes that's right." she muttered.

"Well, before the actual battle started, when the first demon was just getting to the part of murdering the Nephilim who'd raised it, -"

She stopped and glared at Sam. "One of whom was your great Uncle Jonathan; don't you let me catch you at any of that business, you hear me?"

Sam nodded and Dean had to repress a chuckle. If it were left to him, Sam wouldn't be human much longer.

"While the demon was killing the Nephilim involved, some alarms got raised. We locked down the building, but not very well. Most people thought it was just a random drill; nothing to worry about. But one person, Clearando, who was in training to become an Inquisitor-"

Sam made a questioning noise.

"It's a person who acts as police for the Nephilim, makes sure we haven't been robbing the people we save, that sort of thing," she replied to his unasked question.

"She went and checked, and whatever she saw alarmed her enough that she went to get someone higher up. Typically, no one listened." Deana picked up her tea absentmindedly and played with the cup.

"They were actually going to re-open the area, when Clearando came along with a vampire."

"The vampire was half-starved and crazed, but not as far along as most of them get when they're imprisoned. He was some weird sub-type apparently."

"She'd struck a bargain with him, that he, along with the other vampires in the cells – they all followed him around like kicked puppies- would fight the demons for the Nephilim, if the Nephilim would agree to certain, concessions."

"The people she'd tried to talk to before? The higher Inquisitors? They weren't very pleased with her, but before they could get around to killing the vampire, the demon broke loose."

"Everything from thereon in was a pandemic. Dead bodies everywhere. I caught the bare aftermath of it getting out of school the day later. They kept us in school, crouched under our desks like it would help."

"Almost everyone close to the building was killed instantly, burned to ashes or just, imploded by the demon according to the stories. The vampire though, he got away, and he kept to his side of the bargain."

"He went down to the cells and let the others out, and started arranging the battle lines to deal with the demon, and by then, with the other demons who were being pulling through the Gate by it."

"The only reason the entire city didn't go under was because of him," Deana said, a faint hint of disgust in her voice. "Though the Nephilim got organized pretty quickly afterward."

"They realized they couldn't deal with the demons all on their own, not even with the vampires, so they started opening the cells. Letting the caught monsters out under a promise to fight."

"After the battle was over, it was hard getting the monsters back into the cells. Some felt that the monsters had fought beside them, and could be trusted, while others wanted them deal alongside the demons, and blamed the vampire and Clearando for the demons getting out at all."

"Some of them ran."

"Eventually things settled down to peace talks though, and that's when the Accords came in."

"After the accusations, the monsters weren't willing to hold to Clearando's original bargain; that they join the Nephilim in battle, but instead settled for less. The monsters wouldn't kill humans, and the Nephilim wouldn't kill the monsters. It's a bit more complicated than that, but you get the gist of it."

"This was why, when I was sent out four years later to investigate the killings of some humans, I didn't just jump straight in and stake the first vampire I saw. We weren't, and still aren't, allowed to do that really, though things are starting to fall apart."

"Instead, I ended up meeting your grandfather, working as a junior officer for the police, looking at the same thing."

SDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSDSD

The sun was a low ball of fire over the horizon when she finished. The tea in Deana's cup had cooled, undrunk.

"So that explains why you married grandpa Samuel," Sam stated, "And the Nephilim, but why didn't you tell us? Why not go back?"

"I didn't tell your grandfather either Sam," Deana started, her voice scratchy from unshed tears. "There's a DIFFERENCE between Nephilim and human Hunters,-"

"But I hunt monsters. Dean hunts monsters, all the cousins hunt monsters, even the ones from grandpa's side, what's the difference?"

"The difference is blood." Dean said, unable to keep from interjecting. "Nephilim had something done to them a long time ago, and they're, like, Superman on crack. They inbreed to increase it, and they use demon and vampire and, well, any monster blood really, to paint marks on their skin to make themselves stronger. Sometimes they even drink it. They're better at witchcraft than the average person, heritable natural ability so to speak,"

"The bastards are barely less monster than the ones they hunt." he finished. He certainly had no reason to like Nephilim. And Deana's story had another side to it.

Deana's expression changed for a second, and then her face went blank, hiding something behind her eyes. She stared hard at Dean for a few moments

"You could say that." she said wearily. "Had a few run-ins with them have you? Where did you say you were from?" she asked, falsely casual.

Dean shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "No where in particular." he answered, and leaned back further, letting his back creak.

He let his chair fall back down onto all four feet and smacked Sam's shoulder lightly.

"We should get going if we're going to get a room," he said. Sam blinked like a dog hit by a water balloon, clearly thinking of other things.

"Right," he replied, standing automatically. "Thank you," he said to Deana, refusing to look at her, his gaze fixed on the floor.

End Chapter

**Opinions?**


	13. Chapter 13: The Benefits of Whiskey

**Chapter 13: The Benefits of Whiskey**

**Note: I've decided. Jack looks like young John Winchester. You know the one, the hot guy with a sharp nose and dark hair? Yes, what a pretty boy.**

**And now, onto some (though short) action! Warning: PORN**

**Opinions, critiques, and praise are more than welcome as always. You have no idea how useful it is to us.**

**Disclaimer: I am NOT the owner of/etc.: Supernatural, The Blade Series, or Cassandra Claire's work.**

Jack sat alone in the bar, a finger absently twirling an empty glass of whiskey around in a wet ring on the bar top.

Dean and his puppy had gone off to the Campbell's ranch a few days ago. It was like they were walking into hell without a care in the world. Did the puppy think his family wouldn't kill Dean when they found out? Did he expect mercy from Deana Morgenstein? Fools. Both of them were. He knew there was something important about the Morgensteins, something from before the Accords, wriggling at the back of his mind like a worm escaping from a fishing hook. He couldn't quite remember what it was.

Dean hadn't even bothered to screw half the meat-bags he'd picked up the night before. Instead he'd just convinced them to go into a dark corner, bit them, and erased their memories. Pathetic.

There had been days when Dean had practically bathed in blood. He had run through the streets of London less than half a century ago with Jack, murdering those they came upon, their fangs flashing through the in the streetlamps. Like wolves running through a city instead of the woods they'd hunted with abandon, no care for who knew or the hunters that came after them.

And now they were reduced to playing it safe. Playing humans and seducing their prey with sex and false words in exchange for a few pints like the incubi. They weren't even supposed to kill the humans anymore. It was hardly worth the effort. Damned Nephilim.

Damned hunters too.

Jack could smell the puppy's half-brother a few feet away, tucked into a booth with the blond he was pretending wasn't his cousin.

A few of the other hunters were in the bar too. Drinking away their sorrows. A few times they'd raised their tankards and toasted 'Samuel' for some reason.

He couldn't remember, but he was sure that Dean had called the puppy 'Sammy,' once or twice. It could be some sort of nickname.

Odd that they thought so high of him, considering how useless a hunter he was. Could barely shoot straight if the rumors were to be believed. Not to mention how soft he'd seemed in the bar; practically a blushing virgin.

Perhaps he could change their high opinion of 'Sammy.' If the puppy's family started to interfere with the relationship it would no doubt fall apart.

Jack let the glass fall to a stop and began tapping his fingers on the bar. It was a risky plan certainly, but he had no doubt that Dean would be able to get himself out of it if things went wrong.

What if the puppy's family found out about Dean? What if they had reason to suspect that the puppy was infected? He knew what hunters usually did when one of their own was infected. They'd hunt after their friend and kill them before they could do too much damage, like what had happened to Wesley Blade a few years back.

He contemplated it for a few more moments then walked over, stopping briefly to snag another glass of whiskey from a nearby tray. He stopped at the edge of their booth and leaned elegantly against the little wall.

The older of the men looked up from under his ball cap, his eyes bloodshot and glaring, the veins in his nose and cheeks broken like a drunkards.

"I believe I have the pleasure of addressing the famous Campbells, do I not?" Jack asked quirking an eyebrow.

The man grunted. "Dex Campbell." He replied, his voice gravelly. "That's Harry and Ed,"

The younger man wearing glasses piped up "But I'm a Spangl-" before the old man cut him off.

"We're Campbells." The old man stated.

"And you deal with," Jack wiggled his fingers, "Special problems?"

The man nodded, his glare changing into something else. "You could say that,"

Jack's lips twisted into a parody of a smile, a smirk with an evil thought, and he slide a chair over and sat on it backwards, the back between him and the Campbells.

"Gentlemen," Jack began, "I believe I have a preposition for you."

SDSDSDSDSSDSDSDSDSDSD

Sam and Dean drove silently to a motel. Dean stood off to the side while Sam checked them into a room.

Sam hadn't said a word to him since Deana's kitchen, over half an hour ago. He hoped Sam wouldn't be too mad at him, it wasn't like he'd known after all, but lately Sam had just seemed so on EDGE, like the world had turned to knives and every time he turned they cut in, reopening old wounds and making him sullen and angry.

Dean had no idea what to do, but he was hoping for something.

Then he saw the separate beds in the motel room.

He froze in the doorway, watching Sam go to the one near the door and drop his bags on it. If Sam slept closer to the door than Dean he'd be more susceptible to attacks. If he slept closer to the door he could leave Dean and Dean wouldn't even notice.

Sam was looking back at him weirdly now, and he lifted an eyebrow, and then flopped down on the bed furthest from the door.

Dean blinked in surprise, "And where do I sleep Sammy?" he asked in confusion. He didn't think Sam would be the sort to make Dean sleep on the floor for a transgression, not when there were two perfectly good beds in the room.

Sam looked up at him from where he was flopped on the bed on his back. "Right here," he said, patting the bed beside him.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Dean asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside Sam's thigh. He swallowed roughly. The cat was really out of the bag now. More of a tiger really.

Sam was looking at the ceiling, smiling. "For what?" he asked.

"Deana explained the whole 'secret' thing, to me." he replied. "I get it."

"At least you didn't lie to me for YEARS," his voice cracked on the last note.

Yeah the tiger was out of the bag.

Sam looked at Dean, his eyes bright, and from this, angle, almost yellow, "I'm just so SICK of people lying to me all the time."

Dean awkwardly patted Sam's stomach. "I get that," he said softly. He cast a glance around the room as if to divine some sort of answer from the crappy motel room.

He could almost imagine his heart jumping when he spotted the minibar. He sprinted across the room and opened it. Thankfully it was well-stocked, and none of the little bottles showed signs of tampering around the caps from previous occupants. Dean knew the trick; drink all but one, then refill the bottles with a watered-down version of the last bottle.

The little bottles bounced when he threw a few on the bedspread.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at Dean.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Mhm," Dean replied, depositing the rest of the bottles on the bedspread and crawling up onto it himself. The bottles clicked against each other releasing musical notes while he shifted to sit on top of Sam's thighs, his hand resting on Sam's belt buckle.

Sam's hands found his hips, and he dug his thumbs into the space between his jeans and his hipbones.

Dean uncapped one of the bottles and drained it, leaning over Sam to pour the fiery liquid from his mouth to Sam's. Sam's tongue battled his own for dominance and some of the liquor ended up slipping out to dribbled down over Sam's chin and the sides of his mouth to nestle in the notch between his collarbone.

Dean's tongue licked the liquid from Sam's collarbone, Sam's hands working to unbutton his shirt. When Dean found Sam's earlobe and bit down Sam gave up on the buttons and just ripped the rest of the shirt off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

Sam pushed Dean back to unbuckle his belt, pulling off fast enough to slap the length along Dean's arm, causing a bright red stripe on his skin. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and forced it down onto the bed above his head.

He ran his other hand along the line of skin between Sam's T-shirt and ribs, and then pushed it up, licking a stripe along Sam's abs as he went.

Sam bucked up, letting Dean pull the shirt off over his head, and a few bottles fell to the floor with a clash.

Dean pulled back, sitting on Sam's lap, his cock a thick line along his half-off jeans. He came up onto his knees and pulled the rest of them off, kicking them to the end of the bed (or somewhere, who cared?) while Sam dealt with his own pants.

They met with a clash of hot flesh moments later. Sam's tongue in Dean's mouth, Dean's hand on Sam's left nipple, their cocks pressed hard against each other.

Dean grabbed another bottle from where it rested along Sam's side and took a drink, then drizzled a bit onto Sam's chest, following the dribbles with his tongue.

"Wanna fuck you," Sam breathed against his ear when he'd worked his way back up to Sam's throat. The bite marks he'd left had almost faded.

Dean moaned in agreement, and he half-scrambled, half-fell off the bed to grab the lube from Sam's bag.

He returned to Sam working his cock, jerking it and smearing pre-come along the tip.

Dean climbed back onto the bed and Sam, taking Sam's hand and replacing it with his own and lube. Sam twisted his hand free from Dean's and reached around to circle his hole before pressing in swiftly.

Dean recaptured Sam's errant hand and sat up on his knees, then sank down slowly onto Sam's cock. He canted his hips forward, Sam catching on and jerking upwards to hit the spot.

Sam reached a hand around Dean's cock, and jerked along it in time to his hip movements. Dean let Sam's cock slide out and leaned down to kiss him, before snagging another of the convenient little bottles to drink while he rode Sam.

Sam came moments later, and he fell back down onto the bed and out of Dean, still jerking Dean's cock in a non-existent rhythm. Dean came moments later, painting their chests with sticky white come.

He slumped down on top of Sam, resting his chin just over Sam's shoulder, then shifted to plant a kiss along Sam's jaw.

"Love you," came the soft whisper from Sam and Dean smiled against his neck.

End Chapter

**Should I continue this story or ditch? There's at least 10 more chapters of plot-line at the moment, but it's not written up... **


	14. Chapter 14: Sam Has a Nightmare

**Chapter 14: Sam Has a Nightmare:**

A/N

Sorry this took so long.. also sorry that my life is the equivalent of Hell fucked up a corner by a drunken Castiel-God, so the next bit will take a while too. On the upside, I've got till chapter 18 planned out vaguely (minus the sex), and a decent idea of the next series of Sam/Dean's adventures in this universe. Reviews as always, are strongly encouraged.

A figure wearing a deep, black trench coat stepped through the mist, his hand extended. As he stepped closer, Sam saw that the person was his father. Not his father as he'd last seen him, but the John Winchester of his youth, a barely 25-year-old man with the beginnings of a grizzled beard. Beside him was Adam, his hair mussed up into spikes, and his face set and angry.

"He's gone." Adam said, his voice echoing in the mist and causing it to ripple like water. "He's gone and it's your fault."

John's hair turned silver at Adam's words and deepened then to a dark brown-red, like drier blood, hemorrhaging over his skin. He fell to his knees and it poured out of his mouth like water from a fountain, coming to lap at Sam's bare feet.

Sam stumbled back and fell against Dean, his face white and his fangs extended. The mist was gone now, and they were in a warehouse, a few last rays of sunlight coming in through the window. Dean pulled a dustcover over the Impala, and spoke to the air on his left.

"I won't need it anymore," With that he turned and vanished into thin air. Sam fell to the ground beside the Impala, his head swirling.

When he looked up he was in a graveyard. Not the modern, silly little graveyards filled with plaques and flowers, but an old graveyard, with mausoleums and angels and a wall with vines covering it. Old, gnarled trees overhung a gate with symbols carved into it like the ones on the Campbell Ranch gate.

Below, Sam could see a blond girl in deep blue clothes crying over a fresh grave alone. The grave had no stone marker like the rest, but rather a series of lines inside a circle, like the ones Sam had seen in books used to contain demons.

The girl turned with a silent shriek to him, her mouth opening to become a cavern of bloody tongue and white jaws, swallowing him whole like the whale swallowed Jonah.

Sam-

Sam gasped and sat up straight in bed, his heart racing. The room was dark. The only sounds that could be heard were the cars outside, and the squeaking of next-door's bed.

Dean groaned on the bed next to him and turned so his face was free of the pillow. A few of the bottles fell off the bedspread.

Dean yawned, showing fangs, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Seriously gotta get a spaceheater man." he mumbled.

Sam panted in the night air. It took him a moment to process Dean's words. "No. It's, I'm fine." he said. "About that I mean, it's, other," he broke off, trying to think of how to explain it. He'd had a bad dream about his father and Dean and a graveyard? How much sense did THAT make? Just thinking of telling Dean about it made him cringe. He wasn't a CHILD.

Dean was looking at him with more interest now.

"I-, it's nothing." Sam said finally. He nudged Dean's arm with his elbow. "Go back to sleep,"

Dean rolled back onto his stomach with a contented sigh. Sam sank back down onto the pillows and scratched absently at his stubble.

It was probably nothing. Just a bad dream. Sam wrapped his arm around Dean, and nuzzled closer, so his nose was resting in between Dean's arm beside his head.

"So Dex thinks it's nothing?" Deana.

"Well yeah," Ed started,

"But you didn't see the guy!" Harry interjected. "He was, like, like Wesley Blade, he knew what he was talking about man,"

"Er, miss, er, Deana." Harry corrected.

"It was like, the perfect lead. Everything." Ed started again. "Dex just doesn't want it to be real, he doesn't think there are demons out there! But this guy, I mean, we know-"

"We know he's telling the truth," Harry interrupted, stretching his hands forth on the table pleadingly.

"I know you think we're not as good at the job as the rest of the cousins, but we really know what we're talking about this time!" Ed stated. "It won't be like with the haunted house out in Mayburry, this is real!"

Deana sighed and put her teacup down on the table. She needed something stronger than tea right about now. First Samuel's death, then John turning up a vampire, AND Adam, then the mess with Sam-

She definitely needed more than tea right now.

"Have you talked to Ash about it?" she asked finally, hoping to get them off the supposedly trail. There was no way Dean Forrester was a demon. He'd passed the holy water tests, and he'd gotten through the wards on the gate each time with nary a whisper from them. Yes, he was a bit of an unknown, but it wasn't like Nephilim. Hunters didn't have some sort of international hotline connection. Until she got more proof, heck, until she had ANY sort of solid proof, she wasn't about to go about accusing anyone of anything. And in the meantime she didn't need idiots like Ed and Harry going off and bothering Sam.

"Have you had him run the statistical analysis of it? Any patterns of demonic activity?" This was bound to dissuade them. No one liked spending hours in front of a computer waiting for it to load the data or whatever it was doing. Darn new-fangled machines.

Ed flushed and looked down. "Er, well, no,"

"But you can trust us on this!" Harry pleaded. "We know what we're talking about! This guy, this Dean, he's a demon!"

"And, and there are those marks, the hand marks on his car, on the bumper," Ed started excitedly. "They could have some sort of supernatural background; we should run a test on them, see if there's a demonic residue-"

Deana put up a hand. "No. Until you have some solid proof, I don't want to hear any more about it. She jabbed a finger first at Harry, then at Ed. "And I will NOT hear of you going off and bothering Dean about it, and if I catch you anywhere near his car, it'll be hell to pay, you hear me?"

Ed seemed ready to protest and Harry grabbed his arm.

He grimaced at Deana. "Alright, thank you for your time. We'll, we'll let you know." he said, and practically dragged Ed out after him.

Deana watched them go, Ed breaking Harry's grasp on his arm and starting in on an argument. If they didn't record Dean's every movement from now on she'd be shocked. They'd be all over his car with their silly little EMF recorder next, and their crew of 'Ghost-lickers" or whatever they were called.

"So you're sure you'll be fine around the rest of the family?" Sam asked again, settling down in Deana's study with the first of her journals. The rest of her journals, as well as her family journals were stacked up on the desk and floor beside him. Deana had said they could give him a better view of how things in the Nephilim world worked than talking to her could. Dean suspected that she just didn't want to talk to Sam about it.

Dean waved him off. "I'll be fine Sammy," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Deana said she wanted to talk to me about some of the work they've been doing recently, plus there's always the stuff with John. I'll be fine."

Sam smirked at him, no doubt amused by the irony of a vampire helping hunters. Not that it was much different from his usual work. Sam turned back to his book, and Dean walked out of the study and down the hall to where Deana was waiting in the kitchen with more tea, or rather whiskey-with-tea in her cup.

Dean sat down at the kitchen table for the millionth time and made a pretext of sipping his tea. Tea –made-of-holy-water that is, so she was getting suspicious. Or more likely, she was just the usual paranoid hunter. Good thing holy-water did as much to vampires as it did to humans.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Dean asked.

"Well, just in general." Deana replied, smiling at him. "You are, you've been closely associating with one of my grandchildren, it's natural for me to want a bit more information."

Dean nodded. It was the third degree grilling from the family. Over a month late, but it had finally turned up.

"So what did you want to know?" he asked. "I'm an open book."

And he was. For the next few hours he regaled Deana with edited stories of his mercenary work, coupled with a few anecdotes of his work as a mechanic with Ford at the turn of the century 19nth (flipped a few decades forward obviously), the usual things he told people to get them off his back and convince them he was, if not an upstanding citizen, then a decent guy in the least.

"And your car?" Deana asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"It's a '67 Impala, inherited it from my dad," Dean started in proudly. He liked this story.

Deana waved her hand. "Oh not that," she said. "I mean the dents in the bumper, what happened, tried to run over a vampire and found the car couldn't take it?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope." he replied. "It was a moose, a, uh, a hunting trip with my dad. We spent the week in the forest covered in deer shite trying to find a Wendigo, only to have it turn out to be homeless people, and then on the way back, I hit a moose. Haven't managed to find a decent replacement yet."

Deana nodded. It all seemed reasonable.

"So," Dean trailed off, not sure of where to go with the conversation yet.

Deana smiled brightly at him. "Well, that seems to be about it," she said. "And it's getting to be around lunch time, why don't you grab Sam and bring him to get lunch? I'm sure he's got questions for me."

Dean nodded and stood up to shake her hand. "Yeah, Sam will have a lot of questions," he muttered.

Sam dropped the bag of drive-through food down onto the bed and flopped down beside it.

"Hey, careful, you'll squish the pie." Dean said, following and locking the motel door.

He set his own bag down on the table and reached over Sam on the bed to grab the bag with pie.

"Hey, where's the pie?" Dean asked, opening the second bag to reveal curly fries.

"In the car." Sam replied.

Dean walked out and returned with the pie.

"What, no swish?" Sam asked, making a vague motion with his fingers.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, pie in hand.

"Nah, your grandma's getting suspicious." he said.

Sam tilted his head up on the bed.

"Deana?" he asked. "Nah, she thinks you're awesome. Can't get enough of how good you were on the stake-out for John. I think she'd marry you herself."

"A bit young for my tastes don't you think?" Dean smirked, starting in on the fries. "Mhm, curly fries and gravy."

"You should be fat enough to bounce." Sam muttered under his breath and moved to sit beside Dean on the bed. "Why is it always fast food?" he asked.

"'Cause it tastes awesome. I'll eat your pie if you don't want it." Dean offered, licking the errant gravy off of his fingers and going for the second cardboard box with pie.

"Mhm, they gave you cherry,"

"Hey,-" Sam started and wrestled his box of pie away from Dean.

Once he had it he sat up against the headboard of the bed, leaving Dean with the rest of the food.

"And I doubt Deana's suspicious." Sam continued. "If she were, she'd have done something about it, doused you with holy water, tested you with demonic incantations, the works, whatever, not fed you tea and biscuits."

"There were no biscuits."

"No biscuits. Better call the fire department then Dean, clearly she's onto you." Sam said sarcastically, waving his pie fork in the air.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine." he replied. "If you think it's nothing, I'll let it go."

Sam moved closer, snagging a burger from the nearby bag.

"But seriously man, we gotta be careful about this, I don't want a family of hunters on my tail," Dean continued. "And there's no telling what they might do to you, they'll probably think I've turned you into some sub-vampire thing, and stake you without checking."

Sam chuckled. "Would that do anything?" he asked. "Nephilim and all?"

"Oh yeah, you'd be dead and buried, just like a normal human." Dean replied. "Nephilim aren't that much better than normal humans, they've just a few extra tricks up their sleeves."

"Like you," Sam said.

"Something like it." Dean replied. "Something like it."

End Chapter


End file.
